


Find me in the firelight

by Blue_Stockings



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Death, Eventual Romance, F/M, R Plus L Equals J, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:29:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 175,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27192448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Stockings/pseuds/Blue_Stockings
Summary: They locked eyes for a brief second, Sansa’s were vivid blue and reminded him of the forget-me-nots that grew on the banks of the frozen streams in the Frostfangs. A second later she broke the contact and drifted over to the far side of the hall to stand with Lady Stark. Jon wondered fleetingly whether that would be the most contact they would have this visit.------------------------------------------------------In 298 AC, the Great Floods of summer devastate the North bringing famine and unrest. Lord Stark is forced to send his daughter south and his bastard son north. Five years later the King comes to Winterfell and Jon and Sansa return to reunite with their family and each other.
Relationships: Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Harrold Hardyng/Sansa Stark (minor), Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 736
Kudos: 723





	1. Far beyond Visenya's Hill

**Author's Note:**

> Hi - this is my first Jonsa story so please let me know how I am doing. Just to note, there is no rape in this story but there is a limited amount of sexual harassment/assault in the first act of the story which is why I've used the 'Rape/Non-con' warning.

> _"What greater thing is there for two human souls, than to feel that they are joined for life - to strengthen each other in all labour, to rest on each other in all sorrow, to minister to each other in all pain, to be one with each other in silent unspeakable memories at the last parting?"_ Adam Bede, George Eliot **  
> **

**Ned**

Ned Stark stared down at the dead body of Petyr Baelish and said "He was a good man."

"He was" Jon Arryn agreed.

Ned had seen many corpses in his time but none so beaten and brown. He was reminded of plum trees in the gardens of Riverrun. Left unpicked the fruit would fall to the ground and begin to rot, coming dark and wrinkled until one day someone stepped on one of the plums and the soft purple blue fruit was crushed underneath into a flat mess, oozing its juices into the dirt.

"We must be grateful your men could recover the body" Arryn said.

Ned murmured in agreement. It seems almost miraculous that no angry young man had dragged off body parts as some sick trophy. But then it wasn't Baelish that the White Harbor mob had been after, it was the barrels of grain on his ship.

In his darker moments Ned wondered how he would act if he had not been born a Stark but as some shepherd form the Lonely Hills, some Western Shore fisherman or White Harbor baker. Would he have forborne this famine with honour and integrity or would the sight of his wife getting thinner by the day, the cries of his children be enough to turn him mad? To turn him from a respectable, hard worker into a rage fuelled animal who would storm a dock and tear ships' crews limb from limb in the desperate hope of some bread?

Lady Dustin had written of similar riots in Barrowton and there were rumours of cannibalism at Last Hearth although Ned scarcely knew if he believed it.

"Did he have any family? A wife?" He asked.

"He did not" Arryn replied "I believe the Tullys were the closest thing he had to kin. I dread writing to Lysa, this will cut her deeply. She often said he was like a brother to her."

He didn't want to be Catelyn's brother once upon a time. As a boy he had loved Ned's wife and foolishly challenged Brandon for her hand. Ned wondered if Littlefinger had gone to his grave still loving her. Was it love or charity that drove this otherwise poor noble to spend his own coin chartering a ship of supplies to aid the North in its darkest hour for centuries? That had pushed him to personally negotiate an extension of Winterfell's loans with the Iron Bank of Braavos using his extensive contacts in the that city?

The loan extensions would not be granted now Baelish was dead, the Braavosi envoy have been quite clear on that point.

"One may always count on Littlefinger to pay his debts" The moustachioed foreigner had said "But Starks? Northerners? Tch. They borrow with earnest and honourable words only to turn out empty pockets when payment is due. There is nothing in the north but trees and sheep and we have a better supply of them in Essos."

It was hard to argue. Ned had no way of paying back such a loan, but without coin there would be no relief and the North would be lost.

They left the cold room where Baelish's body was being stored. Ned felt a terrible relief that the man had no family - it would save on the expense of returning the body. As it was they could perform the Seven's rites and bury him here in White Harbour.

The rain splashed against the window panes of Wyman Manderly's solar. The rain, the dreaded rain which for over a year had flooded the North's crops in the field and then seeped into the barns to rot the food stores within.

Jon Arryn sat down by the fire and stoked it with a poker, the flames crackled and spluttered to life. Ned sat down opposite, he was in his fourth decade and yet the Lord of Winterfell somehow felt like an errant lad of eight who had just torn Lady Rowena's tapestry.

"The Manderly's maester has been measuring the volume of rainfall" Lord Arryn observed "He says it has begun to decrease."

"Thank the gods" Luwin had made the same observation "But even if we replant tomorrow it will take more than seven moons before we may harvest and several years to fully replenish our stores...and winter is coming."

"Indeed" Arryn said, steepling his fingers beneath his chin as though lost in thought for a moment. Then suddenly his eyes became alert once more and his hands fell to his lap "Highgarden should be able to spare the food you need, but they refuse a delayed payment. I am afraid I could not negotiate there."

Ned nodded, it seemed the Tyrells, like the Braavosi were well aware this wet famine had drained Winterfell and the North of its meagre treasures.

He waited. Lord Arryn had more to say.

"I have persuaded Lord Lannister to offer you a loan" There was a pause.

"A Lannister more generous than a Tyrell?" Ned eventually answered with forced joviality "Those mad preachers on the streets outside are right, these really are the end times"

"The terms of the loan are somewhat delicate" Arryn said "Lannister wants a betrothal. In return for the loan, his son Tyrion will wed your eldest daughter."

Ned nearly choked "Sansa is but eleven"

"I have Lord Tywin's word that they will not wed until she has bled."

"Even so.…" To give his little girl to the infamous, drunken dwarf of Casterly Rock. She was too young, Cat would not wear it, she would demand Jon be sent from Winterfell in recompense. In one stroke he would lose two children.

"Despite his reputation, despite his... _disfigurement_...I know Tyrion to be an honourable man, he is not his father and I believe he will treat the Lady Sansa well." Arryn advised "And it is an eligible match."

"My wife will never agree to it" Not even if Sansa were one day to become Lady of Casterly Rock "Sansa is her favourite, it would break her heart to send her away."

"It would break any mother's heart." Lord Arryn said "But Lady Catelyn is an honourable woman and what is one woman's pain to the lives of thousands?"

**FIVE YEARS LATER**

**Sansa**

Clouds of purple incense filled the small sepel, shrouding the body on the stone slab in its heptagonal centre. The boy who swung the silver thurible, could not have been more than twelve and looked embarrassed as Tyrion Lannister’s household spluttered and coughed on the heavy vapour.

The septon coughed violently, struggling to continue reciting prayers to the Stranger in a dull monotone voice. Sansa stared through the purple mist with sadness, making out the bright blue on the corpse's painted stone eyes and a lone tear fell down her cheek as guilt rolled around in her tummy.

As the incense began to clear, sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows of the sepel casting rays of red, green and gold over the body of Podrick Payne.

Knealt next to her, Tyrion Lannister’s jaw hardened. He had been angry ever since Pod’s body had been brought back from the King’s hunt. He wasn’t even supposed to be there, Sansa thought sadly, King Robert had been short of boys and Podrick had volunteered to be a beater in return for a few coin.

On the other side of Tyrion knelt Sansa’s husbands sellsword, Bronn. A peasant cutthroat with no last name who intimidated Sansa with his ever present cocky grin and worldly cutthroat attitude. Now his face was sombre and drawn, devoid of its innate confidence.

“May the Stranger judge Master Payne fairly and justly and guard him into the world of life after death.” The septon recited.

If this were any other occasion Tyrion would make a joke about Stannis and his ramblings of what lay beyond the Wall. But this wasn’t another soul, it was Podrick, whom Tyrion looked upon almost as a son... Even though they were nothing alike.

Podrick was not lustful or arrogant or condescending. He did not look upon Sansa with pity or wanting or exhaustion. He was kind, decent and pure. He had just wanted to serve them and now one lone arrow on a hunt meant that he had been taken from them at but sixteen.

Sansa felt more cool tears falling down her cheeks. A hand reached out to grab hers in comfort. Her maid, Shae, a girl older than Sansa but shorter and skinnier. From the Free Cities she had a vivacity that Sansa’s disposition and position did not allow.

The service came to an end and two silent sisters emerged from the shadows like ghosts to wrap up the body and take it away. The only attendants of the funeral, Tyrion, Bronn, Sansa and her two maids were attended to by the septon before they left the small sepel. As they gave thanks the septon coughed discretely and Sansa saw her husband slip him a small purse of monies.

The small sepel was one of seven adjacent to the grand worshiping chamber of the Great Sept of Baelor. They were linked by a circular walkway from where the Lannister party passed two septas and heard the mournful melodies of a choir singing float through sept.

“Why did you give him money?” Sansa asked her husband.

“Only nobility may be mourned in Balor’s Great Sept and there is some debate about Pod’s heritage. Enough debate to charge a hefty sum out of me anyway.” Tyrion added bitterly.

Of course, the entire city ran on bribes. Sansa’s father and Lord Tywin Lannister would never had stood for such corruption. Her uncle Lord Arryn had attempted to weed out the practice but with little success. But then her Uncle had so many other duties.

They stepped outside to the white plaza where they were met by chilly breeze. Sansa drew her cloak around her and raised her hood. It had begun snowing again. White ravens had recently arrived announcing the arrival of winter but the snow had not yet settled on the streets. Instead it fell softly merely dusting windowsills and the head and shoulders of the serene statue of Baelor himself.

As they walked down the steps to their wheelhouse, Sansa and Tyrion were crowded by small folk men and women begging for gold. Bronn shoved them out of the way ordering them to get back, but without Podrick he was only one man.

A young woman with blackened teeth and flaxen hair held her child in Sansa’s gaze. “Please my lady” she begged tugging on Sansa’s claret coloured robes “He’ll die this winter without help.”

“Push my lady again and I’ll...” Shae started but Sansa stopped her maid.

“No” She said quietly unable to tear her eyes away from the babe in his mother’s arms. She rarely saw hunger up close and it was sickening. The child’s bones were sticking through its skin and its eyes were unnaturally large. “Here, spend it wisely” she said and handed the woman some silver stags.

“Bless you my lady, bless you” the woman gushed as a score of folk around her started shouting loudly about their starving babes.

“That money will be stolen from her within minutes” Kitty, her other handmaiden muttered disapprovingly as she and Shae rushed Sansa into to the wheelhouse.

“So I should let them starve?” Sansa snapped. While she liked Shae for her honesty and for keeping Tyrion out of her bed, she despised Kitty. Kitty was Lord Tywin’s creature, his spy who told him everything from when Sansa had first bled and was thus ready for marriage to whom she wrote to now in Kings Landing.

The wheelhouse lurched forwards as the driver urged the horses forwards and they descended Visenya’s Hill.

The carriage was comfortable, even as it rattled down cobbled streets, with big scarlet cushions embroidered with gold trim and silk curtains so fine that Sansa could see through them. She saw the children laughing and dancing by the side of the road, stretching out their arms to feel the sensation of snow on their skin that they had before only heard of in songs. Sansa smiled sadly, they reminded her of Rickon giggling in the summer snows. Rickon was eight now but he had been only a babe the last time Sansa had seen him and so she thought of him thus.

“Kitty speaks true” Tyrion said, such words had never passed his lips before, the only person who hated Kitty more than Sansa was her husband.

He wore a familiar weary expression, one that said that Sansa was still a child and knew nothing of the world.

“It is winter. I feel honoured to do something.” Sansa admitted quietly. She had married Tyrion because her Lord father had said it would save the smallfolk yet everyday they heard of Northern peasants who had made the long journey to King’s Landing in search of food as well as shelter from the wildlings who continued to slip through the Wall even after the War Beyond the Wall had been won.

“Winter is cruel to everyone. You had better give your purse to the city orphanages than common charlatans”

He would not normally have spoken to unforgivingly to Sansa. He knew that no woman in the Royal Court could dare carry out charitable acts unless she was following the Queen’s lead. And Cersei Baratheon patronising orphanages was a rare occasion indeed.

Across from her Tyrion hung his head, his expression darker and more intense than she had ever seen it. She knew he blamed himself for Podrick’s death and she was too afraid to correct him.

The wheelhouse slowed down as it neared the castle and the streets became narrower and busier. Sansa smelt cloves and pepper as they past through the Street of Spices and heard the clang of hammer on sword as they drove down the Street of Steel. The rattle of wheels on cobbles eased to a gentle rumble as they crossed the wooden drawbridge and returned to their home of almost three years, the Red Keep.

The castle was quiet and sedate. The King and most of his entourage were still on their hunt in the Kingswood – such a thing did not stop for a mere squire. Meanwhile it was still morning and the Queen did not entertain audiences before noon.

When they had first arrived, they had been assigned small quarters over the kitchen that forced Sansa and Tyrion to share a bed. Soon afterwards her uncle, Lord Arryn had found these rooms for them in Maegor’s Holdfast which afforded husband and wife separate rooms.

“Bring me wine Bronn” Tyrion said, tipping the jug to find it empty as soon as they entered the rooms. It was a mark of how Podrick's death had shaken them that there was no resentful quip from the uncouth sellsword at being treated like a page.

Having no desire to watch Tyrion drink himself into a stupor Sansa retreated to her rooms. She sent Shae to the kitchens for supper while Kitty was made to stoke a fire.

She had once ordered green velvet for her rooms with visions of darning a bedspread like a summer meadow but the Queen Cersei had cancelled the order. Now her bedchamber was draped in red and gold. Everything in her life was in red and gold.

By the window sat her desk, with a score letters scattered about it and her falcon Blueberry, a gift from Lord Arryn, preening dark feathers as blue as her name.

Sansa sat at the desk stroking the beautiful bird unable to summon up the strength to carry out her correspondence.

Maybe a minute later or maybe an hour her bedchamber door clanged open and Shae appeared red faced “My lady, Lord Arryn has taken ill.”

* * *

“Robert... , speak... Robert” Jon Arryn’s words laboured under heavy gasping breaths.

Sansa squeezed the hand of her uncle gently, she was afraid if she held on as tightly as she wanted to that she would break his frail bones.

“The King is coming my Lord” she said softly. She dipped a linen towel into the clear waters of a nearby pot, soaking the cloth before drawing it across his fevered forehead.

Her uncle was the only one who was kind to her when they first came to this godforsaken city. Tyrion, who had just acquired Shae, had ignored her, even more than before. The rest of the court mocked and sniggered, behind her back, at the pauper lady from the North who had been forced to marry the Imp.

Even her Aunt showed no kindness. Sansa had been hoping to find kin, someone who knew what a loveless marriage was and would provide the guidance that she sorely missed from her mother. Instead she had found a cold, half mad woman, who was obsessed with her son to the exclusion of all else.

Lord Arryn had been kind to her however, he was a busy man but he sometimes invited her to dine with them, he told her of news from the North and gave her Blueberry for her name day. Tyrion said he felt guilty for arranging their match.

“The seed... The seed...” Arryn gasped almost choking on his own breath “The King...”

“King Robert will be here soon. Please Uncle, please rest.” Sansa begged. In his fever he had been spouting gibberish for hours and she was worried that the fervor with which he spoke would cause further harm.

The King could be on his way, a message had been dispatched to the Kingswood but who could say how long it would take the messenger to find the hunting party in the dense forest. It could be days.

Robert Baratheon would come though, he saw Lord Arryn like a second father.

The door to the bedchamber creaked open, it was Coleman, the Hand’s personal maester. A tall, wiry man with an unusual amount of neck, he had been busy brewing when Sansa had first arrived at the Hand’s Tower, and now brought forth a bowl of something smelled foul.

“Will it help?” Sansa fretted as she watched Coleman gently spoon feed her uncle the strong smelling potion.

“I believe so” the Maester answered cautiously “It is impossible to know without knowing the route of the illness.”

The man on the bed before them spluttered, spraying specks of the potion onto his cheeks and the pillow he rested on. Sansa leaned forward to wipe his papery face clean.

“He was well this morning, this has all happened so fast and...”

Sansa stopped, the door opened again, she readied to stand for the King only this time it was Harry Hardyng, her uncle’s distant cousin.

“So it’s true” he said heavily “They said he was sick” He looked at them both, Sansa ducked her head and fixed her gaze on the bedspread “Is it serious, what is being done?”

As Coleman replied, Sansa took the bucket on the pretext of leaving the room to get more water. Once she was in Jon Arryn’s solar she exhaled wearily. The room was quiet, the servants had mostly been dispatched around the castle or to the markets in search of herbs required by Coleman. Her Aunt Lysa meanwhile was three floors up, obsessively shielding Robin from any hint of her husband's sickness.

Sansa’s peace did not last however, for only a few moments later the door to the bedchamber opened and Harry reappeared.

“What are you doing” she whispered frantically as he strode towards her “We can’t be alone together”

“That’s not what you said last night, when you cried on my shoulder at the loss of that page” Harry said gathering her up in his arms and kissing her on the side of her neck.

Sansa pushed him away “It’s not safe. You shouldn’t be here. Podrick was killed because he tried to protect me, what do you think will happen to you if...”

Her words were stopped by a warm kiss on her mouth and his strong arms back around her body. Harry looked deeply at her with those beautiful light blue eyes. He looked like the knight of her girlhood dreams with his strong, handsome face and golden hair.

“Podrick couldn’t skewer a dormouse with a broad sword” Harry snorted “The Prince is in the Kingswood, that brat won’t come back for Uncle Jon. ”

“It’s not just Joffrey. The walls have ears and if my uncle dies...” Sansa clutched his jerkin, her voice breaking at the thought “Robin will be Lord of the Vale and you will be his heir, his healthy heir – a threat.”

Harry frowned, it seemed the idea had not even occurred to him “You don’t think...Robin is just a boy, he wouldn’t...”

“But his mother would, I don’t trust Aunt Lysa” Sansa whispered, looking deep into his eyes, begging him to believe her “You know how protective she is of him, how mad she gets.”

As she spoke, Harry had become paler, finally he nodded. He understood.

“I’ll go” he nodded. She wanted him to protest, Sansa wanted him to clutch her in his arms and vow with heroic chivalry that he would never leave her side. That danger be damned, he would always be there to protect her.

“I’ll go to Runestone. Old Royce has no love for your aunt.”

But Harry wasn’t that kind of Knight. She had learned, to her disappointment, that few were.

Sansa nodded with tears prickling in her eyes “That’s sensible. Go now before she has time to act.”

Her brothers would have refused to leave before the man, that had taken them into his home, had passed. But Harry merely cupped her cheek and kissed her.

“Don’t worry dear heart, we will be reunited soon. I swear it by the old gods and the new.” He said before he left.

As the door closed behind him, tears started to freely trickle down Sansa’s face. She wiped them on the sleeve of her dress, wondering if they were for Harry, Lord Arryn or Podrick.

She went back into her uncle’s chamber, Jon Arryn was now asleep and his breathing had eased.

She and Coleman stayed with the sick Hand throughout the day. There were two more visitors. Rosamund Lannister, lady in waiting to the Princess Myrcella, brought her mistresses best wishes and regrets that she could not be there in person.

The second was Grand Maester Prycelle who arrived to offer his services but was turned away.

Kitty brought her a tray of goose pie and olives in oil around sunset. Sansa tried to get her uncle to eat one of the olives, concerned he must be starving, but the old man shooed his head and started to mutter again nonsensical phases about ‘the seed’ and ‘Robert.’

Finally at the hour of the wolf, the King came. They heard him long before he arrived, bounding up the stone stairs with the energy of a man half his age and the noise of a cattle stampede. King Robert burst into the bedchamber, red faced, dripping with sweat and worry etched on his visage. His Kingsguard Ser Barriston Selmy and Ser Meryn Trant followed in his wake.

Sansa and Coleman immediately stood and bowed/curtseyed respectively.

Sansa noticed fear in the King's eyes as he took in the scene before him. It was well known that only a few living were close to Robert Baratheon's heart, Sansa’s own father, the Princess Myrcella and Lord Arryn.

“What ails him?” the King demanded.

“A c...complaint of the l...liver your grace.” Coleman stuttered, overcome with nerves under the shadow of the great king “Or the s...stomach. I cannot tell where...”

“Of course you can’t, why does this boy tend to the Hand of the King? Where is Prycelle?” Robert Baratheon shouted “Tell him, if he isn’t here within five minutes I shall have him whipped and flayed.”

“At once your grace” Ser Barriston nodded and he strode forth from the room.

“Move girl.” Sansa hurried back and pressed her back against the wall, allowing room for the king to waddle forward heaving his large frame onto her bedside chair.

“Dear gods, what will be come of us.” He sighed, his body sagging as his took in the sunken body of Jon Arryn, whose body shook with the labour of each breath.

“Don’t you dare leave me Jon...I'm fucked without you. ” he said in an affected tone.

Pained grasping sounds came from Lord Arryn’s throat as though he had swallowed cut glass. Tears pricked in Sansa’s eyes, she wanted to go but could not without the King dismissing her.

“The seed... The seed is...”

“What is he talking of?” Robert demanded.

“He sounds delirious your grace” Meryn Trant dismissed.

“Where is Joffrey?” The King shouted “Did he get lost in his own castle? The Crown Prince should be here to wait on our Hand. Bring him here now! “

There was a cold pause during which Sansa tried to sink into the wall and Trant glared at her.

“Go on girl!” Trant barked “The King gave you an order!”

Sansa fled from the room, her eyes prickling. She wanted to protest but the King did not care who did the deed as long as it was done and Trant was so lazy and cruel that he would have probably dragged her through her uncle’s solar and pushed her down the stairs.

The knights and guards had been so kind and noble when she had first arrived. She was goodsister of the Queen and everyone had been so courteous. It didn’t last.

Cersei mocked Sansa and her Imp brother so others in the court started laughing behind their back. The drunken dwarf and his penniless child bride.

Joffrey started cornering her in dark hallways and the Godswood, seeking her out to torment her. As he realised she could never tell it got worse.

First his whispered vile licentious things in her ear, then he started pulling at her hair and pinching her wrists and her arms leaving bruises. He would trace his hands over her dress and grab roughly at her breasts.

She was his favourite toy and he grew fonder of playing. Sometimes he order Blount or Trant throw her to the ground. He would force her to beg for her life on her knees as he brushed a bolted crossbow against her throat.

The last time, the pointed tip of the steel bolt had been so close, it kissed her throat and scraped at the skin.

Pod had come upon them. He had lied. He had claimed the Queen had called for Sansa. Now he lay under the cold dark earth.

A window on the staircase faced north and Sansa gazed out of it longingly. She had not seen her family in five years. Her mother wrote regularly but crinkled letters were no replacement for a mother’s warm embrace, a father’s smiles or even a little sister’s teasing.

She sniffed and wiped her eyes . She couldn’t see the North from here, only the shadowy outline of Visenya’s Hill. Her life now was her duty and Sansa must do her duty.

Joffrey would likely be in the hunting hall toasting his success with whatever courtiers cared to stay up this late. And indeed as she approached she found the Hound standing guard and heard drunken laughter from within.

“The little bird should fly away. The cat’s in his cups” warned the Hound.

“I have a message from the King.”

“Go on then what is it?” Clegane sighed.

“I’m meant to deliver it to Prince Joffrey himself.” Sansa said although it was the last thing she wanted.

“You’ll give it to me and go” the Hound growled and then on seeming to notice her unease “You can say I beat it out of you if you want.”

Sansa aught to say that she would never dare issue such a slander but she was too overcome with relief and so merely babbled “Lord Arryn is sick and the King requests that Prince Joffrey attends the Hand’s bedside immediately.”

She doesn’t stay to see Sandor’s reaction but hurried off instead. She headed back to her chambers not liking the dark corners of the night or how the suits of armour appeared to move in the flickering torchlight.

Her chamber doors were only a few feet away when she heard a voice that made her blood run cold.

“Dear aunt” Joffrey calls from behind, and Sansa was obliged to stop and face him. “You left before I could greet you” he says with a sickly smile.

He pressed the lightest kiss on Sansa’s cheek and she wanted to sink into the stone floor.

“The Hound said he would carry the message as well as I” she said in a soft voice hoping not to offend.

“The Hound is a dog with a dog's brain.” Joffrey said leaning close to her “Don’t you want to hear about my hunt? It was very successful.”

Sansa wanted to throw up “Maybe you should go to the Hand’s Tower your grace. Your father seemed very eager to see you.”

“Hang my father, I’d much rather stay here with you. In the dark” He ran a cold finger over the ridge of her shoulder until it reached her neck. It was as though he was a farmer examining a cow.

A door close by creaked open and the Prince snatched his hand away as Tyrion appeared.

“My dear nephew, I thought I heard your dulcet tones. But what are you doing here? Should you not be attending poor Lord Arryn?”

“Hardly” Joffrey scoffed “I can’t stand the wailing of women.”

“That is a poor way to speak about the King of the Seven Kingdoms” Tyrion observed wryly.

Sansa inhaled sharply and Joffrey stepped forward angrily “You better watch your tongue dwarf or I’ll cut it out.”

“And you better watch your back” Tyrion replied coldly, all pretense of friendliness now gone “I know what you did and I know why you did it.”

The statement hung in the air like a dagger raised.

Eventually Joffrey gulped “I have no time for riddles” he said with projected confidence.

“This no riddle.” Tyrion declared “I will hurt you for this. I don’t know how yet, but give me time. A day will come when you think yourself safe and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to joy in your mouth, and you’ll know the debt is paid.”

Joffrey breathed short angry puffs of air “How dare you speak to your Prince in that way!”

Tyrion glared back at him, not saying a word. Sansa stood between the two, terrified.

The Prince was no match for the dwarf however and shortly he retreated, declaring as he went that his father would hear of this.

Sansa exhaled a long held breath once he was out of sight. “You should not have made such idle threats” she said softly “They will punish us for them.”

Tyrion raised a sceptical eyebrow “I can outwit the ominous ‘they’” he boasted “And it was no threat.”

Sansa looked at him in horror “You can’t mean...”

“Oh but I do. Does Podrick not deserve justice because he was a poor orphan from a minor house? Do you not deserve retribution because you are a dowry-less girl from the wilds of the North? No, I have been idle too long. That boy will pay. Maybe not today or tomorrow but someday.”

Sansa felt herself grow frightened again. It was just the grief talking, she told herself, he would never do something so foolish.

“But for now my immediate concern is getting you out of this city. The Prince grows bolder every day and we will be much less protected if Jon Arryn dies”

Sansa felt a stab of guilt, she had forgotten all about her uncle and the thought of his death pained her.

“Where will we go?”

“The Free Cities. Think of it as an adventure, we will tour the hundred isles of Braavos, the red temples of Pentos and the palaces of Volantis as idle rich vagabonds. We will go as soon as there is an opportunity.”

It was nothing but talk for Sansa knew there would be no opportunity. Prince Joffrey would never part with his plaything and thus ensure they would never be granted leave to leave court.

But in this instance Sansa was wrong.

Jon Arryn died the following day and soon after the King declared they would journey north to Winterfell.

**Jon**

"Jon!"

The wind roared with the anger of the Old Gods whipping a swirling white maelstrom of fierce snow and biting cold. Jon stared out at the land beyond the Wall and saw nothing but the whiteness of the ongoing storm. Even the torch that marked the edge of the Wall flickered so faintly it could barely be made out. Sam had once told Jon that more men of the Watch had died falling off the Wall in a drunken stupor than been killed by wildlings.

He had pushed one off once. He wondered what his father would say if he knew.

"Jon!"

It had been seven hundred feet below in Castle Black that Jon had seen his father last at the Wall. He had visited Winterfell a few moons later to deliver the wildling prince but his last true conversation with Lord Stark had been within in the walls of Castle Black when he had begged to ride out with his father to meet Robb's men.

_"I know the land, I know the wildlings. I travelled with them remember. I know them better than any man here." Jon had argued._

_Ned Stark had given a wry grin as he packed his own bag "There are only thirty men of the Night's Watch here. Most of them are green, that's not the most impressive claim ever made."_

_Jon did not see the humour. "You need me."_

_"Aye, I need you" Ned said gruffly "It wasn't three moons ago that Rayder tried to take Castle Black. If not for you he would have taken it."_

_A cold shiver ran down Jon's spine and icy cobwebs fell across his gut as he remembered that dreadful night. "Robb relieved us" he said shortly "The castle would have fallen if he and Stannis had not arrived in time."_

_"It would have fallen earlier had you not taken charge." Ned snorted "You think I trust the key to the North in the slow hands of the Lord Commander Mallister. What if Rayder attacks here again? What if word of him hiding at Craster's Keep is a ruse? A diversion?"_

_Mance would never be fool enough to plan a diversion so near to the Wall. He knew how quickly a man could get back if the winds were right._

_Jon grew impatient. "I need to go." He begged before trying a different tact "Do you think I'm just going to stand by while my father and brother are killed by wildlings?"_

_Ned gave him a cold almost disappointed look "Do really think I'd send more than one son into the same viper pit?" he asked in return and he began to throw his clothes into the bag with more frustration than before "Robb is no green boy. It speaks well of you to worry for him, but just because you have seen more of this world does not mean he cannot fight. Robb has proven himself many times over since this war began."_

_The awareness of that fact fermented both fear and anger in Jon's chest.._

_"I can't let you go on your own" Jon said stubbornly._

_"For all the Gods sake I take eight hundred men..."_

_"Northmen not men of the Night's Wat..."_

_"Men who can fight, men who are no strangers to snowstorms, men who have fought wildlings before..."_

_"But not talked to them." Jon finally burst out in frustration "What will you do with the women and children, with the men who surrender? You cannot treat them as you would any other captive."_

_A cold rage grew over Ned Stark's face; they had had this argument before "I did not go to war to let the North be invaded. Any wildling that will not fight will go free..."_

_"To starve in the winter, to become a White Walk..."_

_"Enough!" Ned commanded and then gave a heavy sigh "I have heard enough of this. The white walkers are a myth and that is the end of it. I have brought four thousand men beyond the Wall and Stannis brought six thousand. None has seen the Others. Rayder tricked you, it's time you learned to accept that.."_

_"But..." Jon protested._

_But Ned Stark was too far gone in his censure "If you think I would allow our defeated enemies, men and women whose families we have killed, who will yearn for vengeance, who would bring the necromancy Rayder taught them south of the Wall then you are as much a fool as your mother to endanger..."_

_He stopped. He stared at Jon and Jon stared back. Both were ashen faced with wide eyes and stunted breaths._

_For the first time, since he had been a very little boy, Ned Stark had mentioned Jon's mother._

_"I...I have to be going" Ned said gruffly avoiding his son's eyes as he marched from the chamber slamming the door behind him._

Nineteen years Jon had waited to hear something of his mother, some small scrap of detail about what she looked like, where she was from...whether she was still alive? All he had received for his patience was an angry outburst that she had been a fool in a long ago argument.

That was going to change Jon decided. He would know more. He would ask for more.

"Jon!" a large blurry shape emerged from the cold fog as Samwell Tarly huffed and puffed into view. On finding Jon he leaned down resting his hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath, his red faced panting and gasping.

"What is it Sam?" Jon asked.

"I...I had to talk to you before you go." Sam spoke "I can't do it Jon. I know I said I could but I can't."

So that's what this was about. This explained why Sam had not waited until he had returned to Castle Black. They could not discuss this in the fortress.

"I'm not brave like you or strong like Grenn." Sam whined "I'm craven, I always have been. I'll get all those little children killed, the men and women too."

Jon slapped him on the back. "Thanks Sam. You'll do fine."

Sam spluttered in protest. "But I can't do it."

Jon forced himself into a cheery grin "I knew you'd come through for us."

Sam gave a mournful moan "All those women and children. I'll get caught, I know I will." He whimpered. "The Lord Commander will chop my head off."

"If an Other couldn’t take you Slayer I don't know that Mallister will have much luck." Jon quipped and then noticing Sam's still self-loathing frown gave a heavy sigh and spoke seriously "There is no one else, not while I am at Winterfell. Grenn and Edd are ranging, so are Dondarrion and the red priest. You can get away from the castle much more easily than Maester Aemon or Pyp."

"I suppose..." Sam started uneasily.

"We have to get them through. We can't lose time Sam you know that." Jon spoke gravely.

"I know, I know" Sam said quickly "I just don't want to disappoint you...or Mance."

Jon's eyes darted quickly from side to side. In the thick snow a watcher could be three feet from them, hidden by the storm's white winds. The only comfort was that there was not a hope in the seven hells they could be overheard over the howling gales.

"You won't" Jon reassured him "All you have to do is open the gate. Val will do the rest."

"I think Val would much rather see you than me" Sam said with a knowing grin.

"Val makes her own entertainment" Jon replied delicately. Val hurt his head sometimes, he cared for her, wanted her, enjoyed her company but it wasn't the same as Ygritte. He didn't love her like Ygritte.

"I know you want to see her again too" Sam continued.

"I..." Jon started taking a deep breath "I shall see my brothers and sisters...my father. That will be enough for me."


	2. In sweet songs is such art

**Bran**

"They're taking ages" Rickon whined at his shoulder.

Bran stood on his tiptoes trying to get a better look at the oncoming royal party. It had felt like hours since he and his brother had spotted them on the road to Winterfell from one of the battlements. The entire castle had since emptied pouring out into the courtyard in their best clothes to line up neatly and welcome the royal party and the return of Sansa.

His mother had been in a state of near total collapse all day from anticipation. She had run round the castle barking orders, checking every window she passed and brushing the boys' hair at least three different times in distraction. Now she stood restlessly as the baby Hosten bounced happily on her hip, gurgling, with no clue as to the importance of the situation. In contrast Bran's father stood alongside as still as stone, his grey eyes squinting and tense as he stared out the gates.

Someone pushed against his side and suddenly Arya squeezed between him and Robb. At fourteen she looked more like a boy in a dress than a lady. She was skinny with bony limbs and a flat chest. After an argument with Lady Stark she had taken a sword to her hair and cut it as short as baby Hosten's, Bran's eardrums still hurt from the ensuing screams from mother and daughter. The hair had grown back in an awkward spikey fashion and was now only just below her jawline.

"Arya, for god's sake" Lady Stark hissed, tugging strands of straw from Arya's hair.

Bran's sister tried to bat her off "Get off"

"Quiet all" His father declared in a quiet carrying voice and Arya stopped fidgeting.

"They're here" Rickon squealed and Bran's head snapped to the wide open portcullis that guarded the inner bailey from the outer walls. Trumpets sounded as a parade of horses and riders cantered into the courtyard, four abreast, carrying bannermen that held the fluttering yellow and black flags of House Baratheon. Bran watched with wide eyes as magnificent white stallions, sleek golden sandsteeds and elegant chestnut coursers clattered over the courtyard cobbles carrying knights, drummers, trumpeters, stewards and pages. Courtiers rode by on colourful capirsoned horses displaying the sigels of the Crownlands; lambs, rams, salmon and red chevronels on ermine. Bran drunk in the gleaming armour and colourful sigils with a hungering thirst, they made him think of red deserts, poisonous swamps, stormy seas, overgrown forests and mountains that touched the sky.

At the head of the courtiers rode the Crown Prince, only a year or so younger than Robb, Prince Joffrey of Dragonstone was tall and handsome, with curly golden locks. Everything about him seemed to match the princes from the southron songs but for the way his lip curled in disgust as he surveyed Winterfell's inner bailey.

"Look, it's the Hound" Rickon whispered excitedly, pointing to the enormous warrior that flanked the Crown Prince's right side. His face concealed by a snarling helmet in the shape of a dog's head.

After Joffrey came more soldiers and then the Kingsguard in their gleaming armour and dazzling white cloaks. Bran stood enchanted, trying to work out which was which - but there were only five - they must have left two in Kings Landing. He felt a tug at his arm and fell to his knees with the rest of Winterfell.

Through his russet fringe, Bran noticed the man that the Kingsguard flanked. King Robert was far less impressive than his retinue or even the black destrier that carried his considerable weight. Almost as wide as he was tall he slouched on the steed with a rough cragged face and a red nose.

If there had not been a crown atop his head, trumpets heralding his arrival along the whole of Winterfell bending their knees on sight, Bran would have never believed this man to be King.

As the fanfare died, a gigantic wheelhouse, carved with symbols of lions and mountains groaned into view, followed by a much smaller, plainer carriage. The two contraptions trundled into the courtyard, filling it to the last so that there was no more space for the rest of the royal litany of knights, guards, stewards, singers and fools

“That’s Ser Jaime Lannister the Queen’s brother and that's Prince Joffrey” Bran gestured with a nod of a head to Rickon and as the large wheelhouse opened to reveal a beautiful exquisitely dressed woman with an upturned nose as if she had just smelled something distasteful “And that must be the Queen.”

“Where’s the Imp?” Rickon hissed back.

Bran scoured the crowds; it was difficult to see through all the horses’ legs and disembarking knights. Suddenly he saw a fair headed dwarf jumping out of the smaller wheelhouse before assisting a young auburn haired woman to follow him.

Although all heads were supposed to be bowed there was a noticeable intake of breath at the emergence of Sansa Stark. When his sister had left Sansa had been Bran’s mother in miniature but now her face had grown longer and her cheekbones were sharper and while those Stark features often made Ned Stark, Jon, Arya and even baby Hosten at times look rather miserable and horsefaced, on Sansa it just made her look even prettier. She looked like a grown woman now and wore a dress of pale green with her dark red hair tied intricately in knot glittering with a gold and ruby hair net.

She looked like everything Bran imagined a lady of the south should look like. He felt Arya stiffen next to him.

“Your Grace, Winterfell is yours” Bran’s father said as Robert Baratheon addressed him. The King invited them to rise and then he greeted Ned Stark like an old friend by clapping him on the back and japing about how he’d gotten fat.

"Thirteen years...Why haven't I seen you? Where the hell have you been?" The King groused in a fond tone.

"Guarding the North for you, your grace" Lord Stark said with an easy smile.

Beside his father Catelyn Stark was looking from the King to Sansa standing by the small wheelhouse and almost shaking on her feet in anticipation.

King Robert gave a great roar of laughter “Go on Catelyn. Go hug your girl.”

Lady Stark broke out into a thankful smile “Thank you your grace” She gave a little curtsey to him before passing Hosten to a taken aback Robb and running halfway across the courtyard to squeeze Sansa with all her might. Sansa looked rather startled and a little embarrassed by the whole thing and whilst most of Winterfell’s household beamed with indulgent smiles at the reunion Bran noticed uncomfortable looks on his father and the Imp’s face and a scowl tinged with a fleck of melancholy on Arya’s.

The King snorted with jovial laughter before turning to his father again and slapping him on the shoulder “Come Ned; take me to your crypts. I would pay my respects.”

**Sansa**

Joffrey gave an over the top eye roll and sniggered loudly from his horse as Sansa's mother stroked her face lovingly. No-one else appeared to notice.

"Oh my darling girl" she said. Catelyn Stark's face was thinner than last Sansa had seen it and there were a few more silver hairs among her long auburn hair which unlike Sansa's hung loose. Her eyes however had a wet sheen and shone with joy and pleasure. Sansa's insides tugged painfully as she hugged her mother. She tried to share her joy but instead felt overcome with sorrow and the urge to burst into tears.

She was taller than her mother now and over Catelyn's shoulder she saw her father disappear with the King in the direction of the crypts.

_He didn't even look at me._

There was a small cough to Sansa's right.

"Such a lovely sight that of mother and child reunited." Cersei said with a radiant smile that did not quite reach her eyes.

"Forgive me your grace" Catelyn said keeping her hands on Sansa's arms but turning to face the Queen "It has been five years."

"Too long by far" Cersei agreed with what Sansa recognized as a little mocking shake of the head "But I wonder if you would be good enough to show us to our chambers. I'm afraid we are not so well dressed for the weather as you Northerners."

She trailed her gaze up and down Sansa's mother's woollen grey dress with a dismissive eye. Sansa felt indignant on behalf of her mother but Catelyn merely gave a stiff nod.

"Of course your grace" she said coolly and kissing Sansa on the forehead led the Queen, Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen along with their households into the Great Keep.

The moment her mother's arms left her Sansa immediately ached for them again and was confused. She stood stupidly in the courtyard next to an awkward looking Tyrion and felt the heavy pressure of scores of eyes weigh down on her. This was her home, the children that stood not twenty feet from her were her siblings and yet she felt nothing but a strong urge to run back into the wheelhouse, shut the door and sew as she had done so many times at court and on the Kingsroad.

Robb, who broad shouldered and hairy was more man than child at ten and nine, apparently decided that they had waited long enough and strode forward to greet her accompanied by a group of trotting boys. Did she really have so many brothers?

"Sansa it is good to see you" he said in a gravelly voice which was a far cry from the boy that had taken her to Casterly Rock with her father. He hugged her awkwardly with one arm while holding a fat baby with the other.

"This is Hosten" Robb introduced and then saying in a soft voice to the disinterested baby "Hosten; this is your big sister Sansa."

Baby Hosten seemed more interested in playing with the silver clasp of Robb's cloak than looking at Sansa but she saw despite the Tully name, his dark brown hair and grey eyes that made him Stark through and through.

"Ha! So this is Ned's girl." King Robert had laughed when she was presented before him for the first time "His wife certainly got her way with this one, there's not a bit of Stark in her!"

There was a tugging on her dress and Sansa looked down to see a small boy with wild tangled red hair that looked as though it had not been cut for a long time.

"Sansa, I'm Rickon, I'm your brother as well. And this is Bran." he said confidently "Do you remember us?"

Sansa felt her throat close as she nodded, he was so tall. That couldn't be right, Rickon was only a baby.

"She knows who you are stupid" a boy with grey eyes and spikey black hair snorted "She's not been gone that long."

It wasn't until Sansa realised that the boy was in a dress that it made sense "Arya! Your hair!" she cried automatically in shock.

Arya's affectionate superior expression vanished into a dark scowl "What about it?" she asked coldly.

Sansa gaped like a fish and struggled to find the right words "I...it's just a surprise" she finished lamely "Mother didn't mention it in her letters."

Robb chuckled "Good old Sansa. Gone for five years and her first words back are about Arya's ugly hair."

Arya redirected her scowl at him and Sansa felt disheartened. She hadn't meant for those to be her first words of greeting.

"I..." Sansa tried to think of something to say, it felt easier to look at the baby rather than Robb's friendly smile, Bran's curious eyes or Arya's annoyed scowl. She suddenly remembered that she had completely forgotten that she was supposed to introduce Tyrion and so gestured feedbly "This is my husband...Tyrion Lannister of Casterly Rock."

Tyrion rocked back on his heels "Siblings" he beamed weakly "Sansa told me so...well she's told me about you. I look forward to getting to know all my good brothers and good..." he gave Arya a skeptical glance "err...sister."

**Ned**

Arya, Bran and Rickon still played in the crypts during heavy rains or thick snows. Whenever he passed Ned could sometimes hear their shrieks of laughter or horror. It was their special place, where none of the servants children or children of visiting guests could go. It was a Stark place.

The King was out of place, too richly dressed for this dark dusty cavern and too fat for the harshness of winter in the North.

"Gods, did you have to bury her in a place like this." Grumbled Robert looking at the pale cobwebs that hung over the statues of long dead Kings of Winter. The sound of scuttling mice could be heard far off in the distance.

When they reached Lyanna's statue Robert stroked the stone cheek as though a living girl stood before him instead of the poor grey edifice that was the work of a Barrowton stone mason.

"She should be buried on a hill under a wide sky with the wind rushing overhead."

"She was my sister, she belongs here" Ned said quietly.

"She belonged with me" Robert asserted, his voice tinged with anger "Every night I kill him in my dreams. I fought the whole bloody kingdom and still the gods took her from me."

"Its done now, the Targaryens are gone."

"Are they?" Robert hissed, hatred seeping into every word "Have you heard what they call her? Breaker of chains, mother of dragons!"

"The reports say Meereen is under siege. Daenerys Targaryen won't be returning to Westeros any time soon." Ned said reassuringly. How could any woman who took the counsel of Jorah Mormont be a breaker of slaves' chains?

Robert smirked "Remind me to send the masters of New Ghis a present when they take her head. Maybe they'll nail her to her a stake." He chuckled darkly "That's what they do in Slaver's Bay isn't it - leave them to rot in the sun until the vultures tear flesh from them whilst they still breathe."

A chill that had nothing to do with the coldness of the crypts ran through Ned. They were just words, he told himself, brought on by the pain of Lyanna. His old friend was not so far gone.

"You disapprove" Robert said "You think I speak to harshly, Jon Arryn always looked the same when he was disappointed in me."

"How did he die?" Ned asked.

"Gods know, one minute he was hale and hearty, then not. Whatever it was took him quick." Robert said "He was an old man, a good man and now I am a King without a Hand."

Catelyn had warned that the King would not travel so great a distance in winter to just visit an old friend.

King Robert turned from Lyanna's statue to face him, he spoke in a formal imperious tone "Eddard Stark, I would name you the Hand of the King."

"Your grace..." Ned gulped sinking to his knee.

"Oh don't pretend to be so shocked" Robert complained "You know I didn't come all the way up here in the bleakness of winter just for that swill you call Northern food."

"You honour me."

"I don't mean to honour you. I mean to make you run my kingdom while I drink and whore myself to an early grave" Robert said "Its a nasty job in a nasty place and you'll hate it, just as Jon Arryn did."

Ned accepted the honour, for what other choice was there.

At least he could see Sansa once more. In time she might come to forgive him. He had caught but a glimpse of her in the courtyard, before the King had dragged him down to the crypts. She was a woman now and just as beautiful as Cat.

"The South will do you good Ned." Robert said "In Highgarden there are fields of roses as far as the eye can see, it will not snow in Dorne this winter but the sun will bake on hot sand dunes as it has always done and ships bring in every wine in the known world to Kings Landing."

"They must know how fond you are of drinking your grace." Ned said rising from his knee.

"HA!" Robert barked with laughter "That's the truth make no mistake..." He trailed off and gazed upon stone Lyanna once more and muttered with melancholy "I could drink a thousand barrels a day and I'd still never forget...If she'd have lived we'd have been brothers."

No, Ned thinks, we would not have been, however much he wishes it were so. Lyanna once told him that Robert would never be faithful but he had loved her and he was not naturally a cruel man.

"Still its not too late." The King murmured "I have a son, you have a daughter. We'll join our houses."

Ned tried not to choke "Arya is only fourteen your grace."

"Aye, and older than her sister when she wed." Robert said "She's old enough for a betrothal, the marriage can wait a few years."

"Forgive me your grace but Arya is..." He struggled to find the right words "She is of the North, she will not do well in Kings Landing, there are other maids that might make better..."

"Better what? Other maids that might simper and flatter my soft boiled apple of a son. Who will sing pretty songs for him and spend their days sewing dainty handkerchiefs to give as favours?" Robert sneered "Piss on that! Joffrey needs a wife that will challenge him, one that won't be afraid to stand up to his bloody mother. My son needs a maid with the wolf's blood as I did before him."

"I..." Ned hardly knew what to say. This last honour he had not expected and was not easily refused "May I have time to think on it your grace. I'll need to speak to Lady Stark."

"Aye talk it over with your wife." The King agreed and then slapped him on the back "She'll not say no. Every mother wants her daughter to be a Queen."

Mother and daughters would be all together in Kings Landing.

By the time Ned returned to the keep, the royal party's servants and other retainers had descended on Winterfell's courtyard, swarming like bees round a honeycomb. Pages, chamberlains and maids cluttered up the halls with great trunks. Harwin was surrounded by scores of mares and destriers that shat everywhere as he tried to direct them in vain to the right stables. Robb's hunting dogs were snapping at the golden hounds owned by Prince Joffrey and the kennel masters were struggling to separate both groups of snarling beasts. Vayon Poole ordered the chaos well but looked frayed to the nerve.

_Gods what a circus._

When he reached his solar, there were papers stacked on high on his desk threatening to fall over. Mostly receipts that he needs to sign before Poole could pay the merchants for everything needed for a Kings visit. More dogs and horses, they'd eaten some during the Great Floods and not replaced them, new tables, chairs and books - the ground floor of the library tower needed to be completely replaced after the flooding and then there was the food. Ned had attempted to cut costs these past five years by providing a very dull diet to his family and household of different variations of turnip stew, now they needed game and fresh fruits from the South. There was also the fuel and the linens for the many new bodies that would clutter up Winterfell - not just the Kings part but the followers he had picked up on his way here, musicians and singers, as well as those that would come to this damn tourney of Robb's.

Ned leaned back in his chair and rubbed the temples of his forehead with his finger and thumb. He wondered what his father would say if he could see him now. Rickard Stark, wherever he was, would be pleased - his son Hand of the King, a granddaughter the future Lady of Casterly Rock, the other who could become Queen.

He laughed strangely. Arya as Queen...of all the absurdities!

He thought of his brother. Brandon would never send his daughters south, he didn't even want Lyanna to marry Robert, it had been Ned who had spoken for the match.

_Stay in the North,_ Brandon would say.

**Sansa**

The Great Hall buzzed with chatter and glowed with the light of the roaring fires that lit the great room and the merry guests within. At the tables below courtiers, servants, stewards and knights got drunk on the plain mead of Wintertown that had been put on the tables before the start of the feast. Sansa saw her husband's man, Ser Bronn laughing as he poured drink by the gallon into the cups of those who surrounded him and further back old Rodrik Cassell weaved his way through the servant's tables chatting and japing with old friends as he went. Little boys and girls ran about underfoot and in the corner a group of minstrels played lute and fiddle as one of Princess Mrycella's singers sung _Fair Maids of Summer._

Sansa sat at the top table on the dias with just her husband, Ser Jaime and Theon Greyjoy for company. They awaited the entrance of the Starks and the Royal Family and the official commencement of the feast. Tyrion had already started drinking but Sansa tried to convince herself not to worry, surely it would be hours before he was drunk.

Tyrion and Ser Jaime had taken great delight in meeting Hodor earlier they were arguing and laughing over his peculiarities with Theon. Sansa shifted in her seat uncomfortably. She wondered if she should drink something so as to feel less awkward when a cry of trumpets and a great hush descended over the hall as everyone clambered to their feet.

The King and Lady Stark entered first arm in arm. Robert Baratheon looked bored and impatient by the formality of the procession while Sansa's mother appeared forbearing. They were followed by Lord Eddard Stark and the Queen. Cersei looked as regal and elegant as she had done those first few days in Kings Landing before Sansa had seen the cruelty within.

Her breath held as her father approached. Ned Stark sat down a few seats away from Sansa next to the King, he briefly glanced at her. It was the closest they had been in five years.

The procession continued with Robb and the rather enamored looking Myrcella, Sansa tried not to feel jealous of the well-loved princess on the arm of a kind and handsome hero. Joffrey and Arya entered next, Arya’s maids had done something clever with the flowers in her hair making it look more like an elegant knot than a boys cut. She looked beautiful even with her poorly concealed scowl. Sansa's spirits fell as she realised that Arya was not wearing the earrings that she had gifted her little sister as a present. She had hoped that Arya would like them as they were engraved with the personal emblem of Princess Nymeria of the Rhoynar.

Joffrey, as always, looked monstrous to Sansa but not to the youngest Poole girls who giggled with Beth Cassel as he and Arya passed.

Bran followed with plump Prince Tommen and Rickon made up the rear bobbing up and down as he walked trying to get a better view of the festivities.

Both Lord Stark and the King made speeches on northern and southern ties, after which the food and better wine were served. Sansa had not seen such a feast for a long time, she rarely attended banquets in Kings Landing and Winterfell's cooks appeared to have overdone themselves. There were stuffed partridges, lamprey pie, steamed clams and spicy peppers along with cherry tarts, blood oranges, blackberry puddings and honeyed sweets. To accompany the various platters were flagons of lemon sweetwater, rosewater and bottles of Dornish Red, Strongwine and Arbor Gold.

Sansa only prayed that neither the Queen nor Joffrey made some snide comment about the Lannisters paying for it all. Glancing down the table she saw that they looked to be in no such mood tonight and were behaving with an almost charm and humility to her family.

“Here Sansa have some lemon cakes.” Her mother offered producing a plate of the tempting treats seemingly from nowhere.

“Oh mother you shouldn’t have” Sansa said weakly. For an alarming moment she feared that her mother had bought the lemons especially for her but then dismissed the notion as absurd. The citrus fruits, like everything at this feast had been purchased to impress and gain favour with the King.

Her mother, however. played along with the notion, as though Sansa were still a young girl “Nonsense I have every right to spoil my girl for the little time I have with her”

“I fear you may regret saying that later Lady Stark” Tyrion drawled taking his goblet to his lips again.

“Oh really” Catelyn replied sceptically eyeing the goblet with disapproval “May I ask why?”

“I fear we may have to trespass on your hospitality a little longer than expected” Tyrion said casually and Sansa saw that the Queen had paused eating and now appeared to be listening intently. “I have a great hankering to see the Wall once our time in the North is at an end. That greatest structure man has ever built, the intrepid men of the Night’s Watch, the wintery abode of the White Walkers…I want to see the edge of the world and piss of the face of it.”

Oh dear, maybe he was drunker than Sansa had hoped. She felt her face flush with embarrassment.

“I see” Catelyn Stark said with pursed lips and narrowed eyes.

“Naturally I cannot take such a lovely creature as my little wife to such a frontier. I was hoping you might guard her in my absence…she is so little after all” he finished snorting into his wine.

Catelyn Stark swallowed as though she didn't know whether to be pleased or disapproving. Why did he act this way? Why couldn’t he be normal? The plan was his idea.

“Yes…err…thank you my lord. Of course we would welcome Sansa for as long as you can spare her.” Catelyn spoke in a stilted manner.

“I’ll have my bastard escort you to the Wall.” Lord Stark spoke suddenly and Sansa’s head snapped in his direction, she had not realized he was listening “Jon is First Ranger of the Night’s Watch and will see you there in safety Master Tyrion.” Her father then turned back to his conversation with the King.

A new singer took the position beneath the dias. He was tall with sharp eyes and long grey brown hair and played a haunting version of _Brave Danny Flint_.

Robb led out the Queen to dance while Theon took Princess Myrcella. Lord Stark and the King appeared far to engrossed in reminiscing about old times to take to the floor and so it fell on Ser Jaime to ask her mother to dance. Sansa watched them move to the soft music enviously, there was not a man left who had the station to usurp her husband for her first dance of the evening. Distantly she remembered her first dance with Harry.

He had held her with such care that night that she felt as though she was dancing on the clouds.

Joffrey twirled Arya into her vision and memories of happiness wafted away as her skin crawled at the sight of his hands on her sister’s waist.

_For though her body was lain in the ground, bloody,_

_broken and coated in grime,_

_It is sung for their sins Brave Danny Flint’s ghost,_

_haunts the Nightfort for all of time._

Sansa forced herself to pay attention to the singer’s melody rather than the sight of Arya and Joffrey. There was a melancholy in his voice as he played his lute and a sadness in his eyes which made the song even more beautiful. Sansa was one of those who clapped loudest when it was over.

“Thank you m'lady” the singer bowed for she was the only lady still sitting on the Dias. At some point during the song Tyrion had disappeared either in search of more wine or Shae, Sansa was not sure which.

“You play very well ser…”

“Not a ser my lady, just a humble singer by the name of Abel who plays for our great King and his fine friends” Abel said humbly “Would the Lady Sansa care to pick the next song? It would be an honour to play for the saviour of the North.”

“I…” Sansa stuttered feeling herself go bright red “My Lord Father saved the North. He protected our lands from Mance Rayder and his wildling hordes.”

“Of course” Abel replied with an easy smile and he glanced along the bench where her father and the King were drinking obliviously. He whispered “But just between you and me m’lady, I’d take a wildling over hunger any day, pretty hard to fight famine with an axe eh?”

Sansa bit her lip and glanced back to her father unsure of how she was supposed to react to such a statement.

“I…oh…um…" Sansa stuttered, thinking she should further defend her father "Could you play _Florian and Jonquil,_ if you please.”

Abel smiled and broke out into that merry tune that she had loved so much as a child. She remembered when she was little and the Karstarks had visited Winterfell, she had begged the singers to play it three times in a row and Harrion Karstark and Robb had teased her dreadfully for it.

“I take it this is your doing.” A deep voice sounded and Sansa jumped as Lord Stark suddenly sat down next to her. Her father took a long look at her causing Sansa to blush as her heart beat violently in her chest; he smiled “You have grown as beautiful as your mother.”

Sansa lowered her eyelashes “Thank you father.”

“It has brought her great joy to see you home again…well I am sure you can tell.” His face fell and he looked almost sad “For what it is worth, and I don’t suppose that to be much, it gives me great pleasure to see you here again Sansa.”

Sansa’s heart swelled a little “I am glad to see you too father.” She said.

“I know you may not have forgiven me…”

“There was nothing to forgive” Sansa said, “I know you had no choice.” She understood that now as she had not back then.

Her father looked as though he was trying to think of something to say and Sansa also tried to think of something to fill the growing gap.

“Have you had any of the lemon cakes?” Ned Stark asked after several long seconds of silence and he hurried to place a plate before her. “I remember they were always your favourite.”

Sansa looked at them. She was not hungry after the banquet and the plate was mostly empty with only the overcooked cakes left, she took one however and swallowed a bite.

“They are very good” Sansa said politely.

Her father nodded obviously pleased. Sansa continued eating the cake so she would not have to talk.

Ned Stark fidgeted with the base of his goblet. There were a few streaks of silver in his black hair and crow’s eyes had begun to form, he looked to have aged more than the five years that had passed since their last meeting.

Sansa swallowed the last of the lemon cake “Robb and my lady mother showed me the baby” she said quietly “He takes after you.”

She had learned that men liked to hear that their sons resembled them. Her father gave her a distant smile but his eyes remained on the goblet apparently distracted by some other thought.

There was another awkward pause for her father swallowed uncomfortably “I am glad you had the chance to know Lord Arryn before he died.”

Sansa blinked hard to shut out the pang that came with hearing his name “My Lord Uncle was the best of men.”

“Aye that he was.” Ned Stark agreed and he rubbed Sansa’s hand on the table comfortingly “How are your Aunt and cousin? We have heard they had returned to the Vale.”

Yes, no doubt singing and skipping all the way Sansa thought acidly.

“Aunt Lysa was very…moved by my Lord Uncle’s passing” she said delicately “I suppose there was little reason for them to stay in Kings Landing after the Hand’s death.”

Her father nodded thoughtfully, he was stroking his black beard and appeared lost in serious contemplation “I remember when I was young…” he started but was interrupted by a loud shout from the King.

“Come Ned, are you going to let me drink myself to death alone?”

Her father smiled apologetically before leaving her and Sansa, to her shame, felt relieved and at ease for the first time in the evening. It did not last and soon to her horror she was joined by the Prince.

“Ugh I’ve had to play insipid sop to your ugly sister all evening” he slurred as he swigged down Tyrion’s left over wine and rested a hand on her knee. Sansa froze at the touch; she did not look for her father but was both half hopeful that he would see and half terrified about what he would do if he did.

“Shall we depart these halls fair aunt” he whispered, his wine laced breath scraping her neck “You can sooth my spirits after having to play nice to your savages of a family.”

“I don’t think that is a wise idea your grace” Sansa breathed, wondering desperately how to escape. She searched in vain for the Hound but he seemed to have left the hall.

“Why, it’s not as if my uncle has need of you.” Joffrey sniggered as he begun to move his hand further up her leg “My grandfather paid a lot of money for you, so you aught to open your legs for at least one Lannister.”

Sansa squeezed her eyes shut. He was a monster.

“Nephew!” Tyrion suddenly boomed running up onto the dias with his arms outstretched and wearing a silly grin “I am feeling merry tonight, come give your uncle a big hug.”

Several people around them started to laugh and Joffrey removed his hand jumping up with disgust “I’d rather bathe with a wildling whore.”

“Thank you” Sansa whispered quietly as her husband sat down next to her and the laughter continued around them.

“Just two moons” Tyrion promised patting her hand “Two moons and then we never have to see that little shit again.”

**Jon**

Jon’s horse thundered into the courtyard of Winterfell, its iron shoes clapping loudly on the iced cobbles as Jon breathed in the wafting aromas that drifted out from the feast within the Great Keep. He looked up at the fortress within a fortress that loomed over him, a blank monolith set against a navy night sky littered with a thousand windows glowing golden from the hearths inside. He searched out the family quarters, wondering if Ghost in the nursery right now.

“Snow!” someone shouted and Jon grinned to see Jory Cassell stumbling out of the castle supported by the curly haired Sonya Poole, the eldest daughter of the Winterfell steward “Where in the Gods’ names have you been?”

Pressuring Sam into committing treason.

“Road was blocked” Jon called back, jumping down from his horse “I had to ride through the Wolfswood.”

Jory snorted “King picked a stupid time of season to come North. Gods hope they don’t get stuck here.”

“If you don’t get your fat legs moving you’ll be stuck in this courtyard” Sonya said sternly “Let’s get you to bed. Night Jon.”

Jon bid her goodnight as Jory slapped her on the backside. Jon hoped for Jory’s sake they were betrothed. Although Sonya looked more than happy to be drunkenly groped by the mild mannered captain there was no telling how Vayon Poole would react after what had happened to Jeyne.

Jon adjusted his gloves ever so slightly, straightened his spine, took a deep breath and entered the Great Keep. The firey warmth of the hall hit him like a comforting tankard of mead and he was blinded by a whirl of music, dancers, revelers and merry makers.

Jon barely had time to make out Robb in the middle of the hall dancing with a very beautiful red haired girl when something small and skinny winded him.

“Jon!” Arya cried happily jumping up to hug him round the neck and almost choking him in the process. Before Jon could hug her back however her happy expression morphed into a scowl and she gave him a surprisingly painful thump on the shoulder “Where were you! You said you’d be here for the feast!”

“Well the feast is still going on isn’t it?” Jon offered looking around to see most of the plates had long since been stripped bare. He stared down at Arya and felt flooded with warmth and ease. After months, years of ice, hunger, blood and lies, he could not help but scoop Arya up in another hug and muss up her hair (which had been wrangled into some ridiculous girly fashion) so it was wild and spikey and her again “I missed you little sister.”

Arya split into a wild grin and a second later Bran and Rickon were bounding through the tables to hug Jon to and gabble questions about the Wall and the wildlings.

“Did you bring a mammoth tusk? You said you would bring one back” Rickon cried in greeting, his eyes alive but slightly red. Jon was surprised Lady Stark had let him stay up this late but then he noticed with a violent shock that the baby Rickon was now up to his chest.

“Finally decide to show up did you Snow?” Robb grinned weaving his way through the revelers to clap Jon on the back. It was easier than last time for Jon to hug him in return and he was surprised to find his happiness at the sight of Robb had grown while his unease had dimmed.

“Well you Starks are worth the wait” Jon replied. Over Robb’s shoulder he noticed the beautiful girl he had left on the dancefloor and realized with a start it was Sansa. The south, it seemed, suited her, she had grown even lovelier, into a lady’s figure that looked so delicate it might shatter at a slight winter wind.

They locked eyes for a brief second; Sansa’s were vivid blue and reminded him of the forget-me-nots that grew on the banks of the frozen streams in the Frostfangs. A second later she broke the contact and drifted over to the far side of the hall to stand with Lady Stark. Jon wondered fleetingly whether that would be the most contact they would have this visit.

It was not until his father greeted him with hearty cheer that Jon noticed another watching the reunion with interest only a few feet behind Sansa. In his hands he held a lute instead of a sword but Jon would know that lined face anywhere.

His blood boiled.

* * *

“Ugh!” Mance Rayder grunted as Jon threw him against a wall and held a knife to his throat.

The feast had long since finished and the castle slept around them.

“What in seven hells are you doing here?!” Jon demanded angrily wondering how far he could actually press the blade into the skin without drawing blood.

Mance snorted “I have come to pay homage to our great King. I can see why you were willing to die for him Snow.”

“My life is the Realm’s” Jon hissed through gritted teeth, no matter how fat or vicious the man who lead it was. There was a scuttling noise and Jon froze, squinting into the dark shadows of the washing room and strained his ears in search of movement outside. Everyone should either be in bed by now or passed out in the Great Hall.

A mouse darted out from beneath the mangle and scurried into a crack in the wall. Jon breathed a sigh of relief.

He gripped the front of Mance’s tunic tighter and growled “You will leave tonight.”

“Are you going to throw me out Jon Snow?” Mance challenged.

“What do you think will happen when Robb or my father recognize you?”

“Lord Stark hasn’t seen me in twenty years. I was three feet from him tonight and he looked straight through me.” Mance said gruffly “The Young Wolf wouldn’t look twice at a singer, not even to work out if it were the man he fought in a snowstorm.”

“You will start another war.”

“Some war” Mance scoffed “I on one side and a hundred Kings men on the other.”

“You have no right to be here” Jon growled “You will leave tonight or I will go straight to Lord Stark.”

Mance pushed Jon off him and his stumbled a couple of steps back “And tell him what?” he challenged “That you warned me of your brother’s coming at Craster’s Keep so I could flee, that you aided Val’s escape from Stannis Baratheon or that you’ve been letting wildling savages past the Wall for nigh on a year.”

Jon’s ground his back teeth together and fixed Rayder with a hard stare as frustration and guilt flowed through his veins “What do you want?” He said bitingly.

“What do you think I want?” Mance growled “I want to see my son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think, all criticism (both positive and negative) is welcome.


	3. What do boys do? What do men do?

**Sansa**

_The bright white light of day was smothered by dark wooden shutters. Beyond the walls were wide open moors where shrews and hares fled from one burrow to the next. Bright black dots on a clean white canvas. Inside she was held by thick silver bars._

Sansa woke to the rattling of Blueberry's cage and the squawking of her falcon. Bleary eyed, she dragged herself out of bed and opened a window and the door to the silver cage.

Blueberry hopped onto her forearm, her talons pricking the skin underneath her nightdress. "Stay away from Joffrey." Sansa warned her. Blueberry gave a little chirp, nipped Sansa's ear affectionately and then launched herself into the sky.

Sansa watched, envying the freedom of the bird to soar and ride the wind as she may please. The sky was a beautiful clear colbalt blue and the wind was light - good weather for hawking as Lord Arryn would say.

Her gaze drifted to the courtyard below, it was still early and she watched as the washerwomen set up their tubs, pouring gallons of warm soapy water ready for scrubbing dirty, dusty tents and sheets brought from the journey from Kings Landing.

She wanted to visit Mistress Poole. Jeyne may be far from Winterfell, married to the son of a rich Braavosi merchant, but Sansa would like to see her mother and sisters. She had such fond memories of the Pooles.

Feeling awake and unwilling to wait for her wretched maids, Sansa dressed herself and left her rooms. There was no one about but servants. The Starks and their royal guests, it seemed, were still sleeping off the merriment of the night before. She quietly greeted Harwin, who stood guard at the entrance to the family quarters and Old Luke Soot who had managed the chimneys since before her father's time.

Sansa drifted to the East Wing and stopped at the nursery.

A servant woman was scrubbing a yellow haired babe in a tub by the fire - the wildling prince. The babe was laughing and splashing the nurse while Hosten slept in his cradle.

Sansa walked over to stare at him a little. Underneath the cradle, Ghost rested peacefully.

He had been named after his grandfather, Lord Hoster Tully, who had died a moon before his birth but the babe was every inch a Stark. Sansa took in his black hair and long nose and then once he opened them, his grey eyes. He looked like Arya, like Father.

Tentatively Sansa smiled at him, praying he would not start crying again. Her little brother smiled back and waved a chubby closed fist. Relieved Sansa reached into the cradle to pick him up.

"I wouldn't do that m'lady." The nurse suddenly spoke "He's not fond of strangers."

"I'm not a stranger, I'm his sister."

The nurse shrugged "Say what you will, 'e don't know you from Brandon the Builder."

Sansa glared at the impertinent woman, she had dark eyes and thick brown hair that she kept wild and loose. Sansa's mother always liked the female servants to wear their hair up, so it didn't get tangled in anything.

"Wet, wet!" The wildling prince shouted splashing the water "Oshy Wet!"

"Who are you?" She asked "I thought Old Nan took care of the children of Winterfell."

The woman chuckled "Old Nan's a bit long in the tooth to be getting up at all nights hours to tend to two little babes. She still tells stories to Bran and Rickon and I take care of the young 'uns. They call me Osha."

"And how did you come to be at Winterfell?" Sansa asked, the woman had a strange northern accent, stronger than Sansa had ever heard "You are not from Wintertown"

Osha looked her over appraisingly "No, I come from the Gift m'lady." She said coolly. "The bastard Snow bought me with him to Winterfell to be a wet nurse for the wildling boy."

"The bastard?"

"He's a bastard isn't he, that's what they all call 'im"

"You are a servant and he is your Lord's son." Sansa narrowed her eyes "It doesn't matter what other people call him. You should call him Master, especially in front of his kin and the wildling boy."

"Oh aye, I'll remember that m'lady." She gave a false smile and a poor curtsy. There was a distinct hardness in her eyes that Sansa did not like.

"I'll take Hosten to the Hall this morning." She announced.

Hosten did cry, although the Gods were good and he did not do it within hearing range of the woman.

Sansa took him out into the Godswood where she rubbed his back, cooed in his ear and bounced him at her hip. She even looked beseechingly at Ghost, who had followed them, but the white direwolf merely yawned and lay down underneath the heart tree. Nothing worked and the babe kept crying.

"Please, Hosten, I'll tell you a story." Sansa begged, stroking the black hair back from his red angry face as he kept squalling "WAAH! WEEEH!"

"It's Sansa remember, I'm your sister."

_Please don’t let the servants hear him._ Someone was going to hear, they were going to come and then they would tell mother and father. They would tell everyone how her baby brother screamed at her touch.

Sansa tried desperately to remember how her mother had behaved with Rickon, how Lady Genna Frey had acted with her granddaughter.

Footsteps crunched against snow and Sansa jumped, her heart in her mouth.

It was Jon Snow.

Tall, unshaven and dressed in the black leathers of the Nights Watch, he looked as startled as Sansa felt to have come across her.

Hosten stopped crying at once and started to coo.

Sansa nearly rolled her eyes.

"I'm sorry." He said, standing awkwardly "I didn't think anyone else would be here at this time."

"I woke up early." Sansa explained. Her panic had begun to subside now that Hosten had calmed down.

"Yes, of course"

Silence stretched out between them. Sansa tried to think of the last time they had been alone together. Truthfully she couldn't even remember the last time they had spoken to one another - surely they had said goodbye? Had she left Winterfell first or had Jon?

It took a few seconds for her to realise Jon was probably there to pray.

"I'm sorry, we can leave...you..." She gestured to the heart tree, feeling stupid.

"No." Jon said quickly, he took a tentative step forwards. "I was only taking a walk...Hello Hosten."

"Dah!" Hosten declared beating a tiny fist in the air, his mouth curved with happiness.

"He recognises you." Sansa said despondently.

"Hardly." Jon snorted "The last time I saw him, he was barely a moon old. I reckon the only faces he knows are your lady mother, his nurse and Ghost."

"Ghost" Hosten chirped "Ghost. Woof woof!"

Ghost gave two short sharp barks obligingly. Hosten shrieked happily and Sansa couldn't help the warmth within her as she smiled down at his laughing eyes an wide smile.

Then she caught sight of Jon, he was trying to smile too but there was a sadness in his eyes, a longing as he watched Ghost.

What must it have been like to lose his direwolf to another? For it to choose to be at Winterfell once Hosten was born. Sansa thought her heart would have broken.

_At least he can still visit Ghost, at least Jon can look at him , stroke him, brush his coat... what I wouldn't give to see Lady one last time._

Sansa wanted to ask her half brother if it felt like part of him was missing without Ghost, if he didn't feel not quite...whole.

Jon seemed to notice she was staring at him for he forcibly cheered up and stepped closer to gently tickle Hosten.

"You've gotten bigger, haven't you?" Hosten giggled "Can he walk yet?"

"I don't know, my mother didn't say." Sansa admitted.

"I'm sure he'll be running around the training yard soon enough - won't you little one?"

"Yes!" Hosten declared and he grabbed Jon's finger, holding it tightly in his little hand. A real smile came over Jon's face.

"I wonder if he knows what he just said 'yes' to" Jon chuckled.

Sansa tried not to smile. She tried to think of something witty to say but her mind failed her. Things had always been a little awkward between them, both so aware of their different stations in a way the other Stark children were not.

A pause lingered and festered in the air. Sansa swallowed uncomfortably.

"I heard you were made First Ranger at Castle Black" she eventually said "Father must be very proud."

Jon shrugged, and Sansa was disappointed. He had always liked to make their father proud, since he could never do so with her mother. But Jon was a man now, he must not crave approval as much, she thought.

More silence.

"I'm sorry for your loss" Jon suddenly said and Sansa nearly jumped "Father always said Jon Arryn was the best of men."

"Yes he was" Sansa murmured. Thinking about her uncle was no less painful than thinking about Podrick "I...I think I understand now how father came to be such a good man."

Jon nodded awkwardly but he didn't really understand. He had never met his namesake.

As if sensing the change in mood, Hosten's face began to pucker and he started to snivel "Ba!" He gurgled "Mama! Hosen yum! Gah!"

"I think he's hungry" Sansa frowned, praying he wasn't about to start to bawling again.

"I'll escort you to the Great Hall." Jon said, and he seemed relieved that there would be no more awkward small talk. Her little brother had good timing.

They left the Godswood and ran into Maester Luwin as they entered Great Keep who welcomed them both back to Winterfell warmly.

"I was hoping to see you Lady Sansa, we have had a number of ravens recently. These, I believe, are yours" Luwin produced from his robes a bundle of some number of letters tied together with straining white string.

"Oh thank you" Sansa gratefully accepted the bundle, she blushed as she saw both men raise their eyebrows at the quantity of letters "Just a few friends" She explained.

"I look forward to seeing you more in the Rookery" Luwin said with a small smile "I must also thank you for your kind gift."

"Gift?" Jon asked politely and suddenly Sansa wanted to sink into the ground.

"Yes, Lady Sansa was kind enough to give me a copy of _A History of Qohor in the Years Following the Century of Blood_ by Doro Golathis. A most illuminating book and it is always so difficult to find objective sources on Qohari history...Though I would tell a lie if I said I was not slightly envious of the bottle of Dornish Red that you gave to Vayon Poole."

"I'll try to remember next time" Sansa smiled weakly.

Luwin chuckled and bid them a good day. Sansa immediately turned to Jon, "Jon, I…"

"It's alright" He interrupted kindly. He didn't look angry or resentful, just a little sad. It made Sansa feel even worse.

He wasn't even surprised.

"No it’s not alright" She protested "I'm so sorry, I just…"

Forgot. That was the truth of it.

_I remembered to get presents for all my family, all the household, even Gage the cook... but I forgot Jon._

"Sansa really, don't worry about it" Jon insisted "I couldn't accept anything anyway. I'm a man of the Night's Watch remember?"

_Maybe not an expensive book or fancy ornament but I could have at least bought him some Dornish Red._

"I can make you something" Sansa decided "I'll make you a shirt and it will be much nicer than the one I made Robb, I promise."

Jon nodded and his mouth lifted with the hint of a smile "Aye, alright then."

* * *

They had been in the Godswood longer than Sansa had realised. The Great Hall was already bustling with those breaking their fast. While Jon slipped away to eat with Jory Cassell at one of the lower tables, Sansa joined her family, the Queen and her two younger children on the dias.

"Was he good? Were you good for your big sister Hosten?" Lady Stark asked taking the babe in her arms to feed him.

"Cake, cake!" Hosten demanded.

"Can I have cake mother?" Rickon asked.

"Nobody is breaking their fast with cake." Lady Stark said firmly.

"Good Gods." Robb chuckled "Sansa's called the banners."

Sansa put the letters she had been flicking through, back down on the table bashfully "Don't be silly."

"Luwin said there had been a number of ravens, are they all for you Sansa?" Her mother asked kindly.

Sansa nodded.

"Who are you going to war with - Arya?" Robb chuckled and he leaned over to get a better look at the letters "Royce, Darry, Velaryon...Is that a vulture carrying a baby?!"

"That's House Blackmont" Princess Myrcella said.

"You must give Lady Blackmont our regards" The Queen said with a melodic tone, as though she were truly concerned "We heard she was suffering from the yellow sickness."

"She was but Lady Jynessa says that her mother has now recovered."

"Thank the Gods." Cersei said with a died smile and turned to her mother "Our Sansa is a prodigious correspondent. I am quite envious of her skill, she must know half the young ladies in the Realm."

Lady Stark accepted this praise as though it were genuine. Arya rolled her eyes.

"These are all from young ladies." Theon said exhibiting a great deal more interest "Sansa, which ones are..."

"Robb!" Her mother interrupted and gave a subtle nod to their younger children at the table.

"Never mind about that for now, we need to meet father and the King later." Robb said dragging Theon up out of his seat "Snow!" He yelled over to where Jon was sitting with the guards "We're going to the training yard. Do you want to see if you can beat me yet?"

Myrcella watched Robb go with a wistful expression

"Can we go too mother?" Bran asked. Lady Stark nodded.

"Not you Arya." She said as Arya got up to go with Bran, Rickon and Tommen.

Arya sat down with an angry huff. The Queen looked disdainfully at her and Lady Stark glared "You have lessons this morning with Septa Mordane and Princess Myrcella. Then this afternoon we are going to Wintertown to give alms."

"Your mother's example inspires us all." Cersei said.

Arya looked like she wanted to follow Hosten's example and chuck her porridge against the wall.

**Jon**

The air was crisp when they arrived in the training yard.

"I can't stay long. I have to meet with Lord Stark and the King this morning." Jon warned.

Robb snorted "Father said we'd be lucky if the King rose before noon" He threw Jon a sparring sword "The old men will summon the boys when they have need of us."

Jon shouldn't have been surprised. He should have stayed an extra day at Castle Black.

"Let's go Snow." Robb smirked "First one on his arse has to help Rodrik teach the young ones."

They sparred as Theon watched. Robb was good, he was very good and Jon was hardly motivated to win a some sparring session that seemed mostly designed to kill time.

"Come on Jon" Robb grinned with an easy smile as he whacked his brother back to the fence "You're not trying, pretend I'm a wildling."

Jon ducked the swing of the sword and then head-butted Robb in the stomach. His brother fell to the ground winded, clutching his belly.

Theon howled with laughter.

"Well that was hardly fair." Robb grumbled as Jon helped him up.

"You've seen those savages beyond the Wall. You've seen the savages manning the Wall. Snow fights like them now" Theon smirked.

"There's more honour in the worst of my brothers than you'll ever know Greyjoy."

_More honour in the freefolk too. What honour was there in striking a sword through Ygritte's back?_

"Well as your real brother, I say lets fight again." Robb declared "You're the first proper competition I've had in moons. I can't just fight Theon if I expect to win the melee."

"You don't best me all the time Stark. I've got just a good shot at the melee, I'll win the archery as well." Theon boasted.

Jon frowned "You're holding a tourney?"

"Not a full tourney, just a melee and archery contest at the end of the King's visit. Maybe some races too, for the servants. Father drew the line at a joust, he said it was too expensive." Robb explained.

"I'm surprised he agreed to the rest." Jon said. There wasn't enough coin to fix the gate at Shadow Tower but there was for a champions purse?

"It will be good for the North, we're inviting the other Houses. We'll give them a chance to meet the King and foster good moral by doing so."

It would give Robb and Theon a chance to show off in front of the Royal family and Northern nobility.

As breakfast ended more approached the training yard and Jon, Robb and Theon had to make way to let Bran and Prince Tommen spar under Rodrik Cassel's guidance.

"He's awful." Theon sniggered. Robb smirked as Tommen was knocked onto his plump bottom for the third time.

"He's only a boy." Jon said coldly.

"What a disgrace." Prince Joffrey had arrived in the yard, accompanied by his sworn shield the Hound. "He shouldn't call himself a prince. You should teach him what it really means to fight, dog"

Jon looked at the scarred beast of a man and the thought of him truly facing little Tommen was one of horror.

Robb laughed "Don't say that out loud, you'll terrify the boy."

"He's braver than most." The Hound said as Tommen got up from the ground again "The Prince always gets back up again. There's many that would face sell swords and cut throats only to run from the sting of shame."

Joffrey gave his shield a dismissive sniff "Why are they using sparring swords, how can they train properly if there is no chance of getting hurt?"

"We have some real steel over there." Robb nodded.

"There will be no live steel in my yard." Rodrik shouted from where he stood overseeing the boys and squires.

"It looks like your luck is in then Stark." Prince Joffrey declared and grabbed a blunt blade "Shall we?"

Jon thought Robb would decline, the yard was already too full, they would knock into others. But Robb merely smirked at his chance to face the Crown Prince and they began to fight, pushing other pairs to the sides to watch as they did.

"This is no contest, Robb will win easily." Theon said.

Jon didn't care, he had wasted too much of the morning on this posturing already. He had just seen Osha cross the courtyard with Dallan and was sure they were on their way to see Mance. He wanted to go with them, it had been a long time since he had seen Dallan and there was much more to talk of with Mance.

"Jon, did you see, I defeated Ser Jason's squire." Bran shouted running up to him.

Jon ruffled his hair and told him well done.

"We'll go to the whorehouse after dinner Snow" Theon murmured in his ear so that Bran couldn't hear "It'll be a treat for you after those Molestown hags. Gods no woman would almost be better than those women."

"That's not what you said after the Battle of Castle Black." Robb grinned, he had bested the Prince "You lived almost a sennight in that hovel."

_Is that what Theon was doing while he was morning Ygritte and agonising over double crossing Robb._

Theon faced Joffrey next and it was a match of more or less equals. When Jon took his turn, he lost, knowing better than to best a prince, especially one that was arrogant and pride hurt.

The white winter sun rose in the sky until it was high noon and Jon had wasted his morning. He thought of all the things he could have done at Castle Black, help with the inventory, write begging letters to houses, help the builders with the support structure in the tunnels, scour the library for old forgotten maps, work out how to fix the gate at Shadow Tower...Instead he stood around watching boys fight as he waited in vain for a King who would probably not help him.

"Jon?"

" _What_ " He snapped irritated and then instantly felt guilty. It was Arya "I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else."

Arya recovered her hurt expression "Do you want to spar?" She asked with a childish enthusiasm that he found endearing. She had grown some and was all gangly awkward limbs, quite some way off from becoming a woman.

"Ladies don't spar" Prince Joffrey sneered.

"This lady does." Arya replied coolly. She picked up a sword "I've gotten much better"

"I'm sure you have, but should you really be fighting in that pretty dress?" Jon smiled.

Arya looked down at her grey dress with black stars embroidered on the bodice that Lady Stark had no doubt forced her into. She scowled.

"I have to give alms with Sansa and the other ladies." She moaned.

"I'll likely have to go soon anyway, I'm supposed to see father and the King this afternoon to discuss the Watch."

"We could fight this evening when I come back?" Arya suggested.

"Aye maybe." Jon agreed "Work up an appetite for dinner."

Arya grinned wildly.

"Arya, Arya!" Little Beth Cassel, who acted as his sister's handmaiden, ran towards them panting and red faced. "Queen Cersei has arrived and they finally found Sansa's maid. We need to get back to the stables or we'll hold up the party."

Arya gave an almighty groan, her hands balling into angry fists as she was forced to stomp off after Beth.

The training yard was in sight of the South Gate and Jon watched the ladies process on their palfreys out towards Winter Town. Lady Catelyn led the group, confident and sure in her riding. The Queen was cold and beautiful in a rich red fur cloak. Princess Myrcella, sweet and excited. Sansa, serene and poised and Arya, trapped and miserable.

Jon thought about that morning, he wasn't surprised Sansa had forgotten about him. The insult stung a little but he was not a Stark, he wasn't even of Winterfell anymore. What hurt more was the sight of Ghost. His own Ghost, trotting after Hosten - truly loving and faithful to his little brother.

In the days before he took Osha and Dallan to Winterfell, Ghost had become restless. He had started scratching at the gates of Castle Black, refusing to come inside...howling at the moon. Jon, who had once felt so connected to his direwolf that sometimes it felt like they were one and the same, felt that connection begin to splinter. As soon as they came within sight of Winterfell, Ghost had ran to the nursery and never left.

He would never forget that small smile Lady Catelyn had worn when he called Ghost from Hosten's cradle and Ghost had refused to come.

Jon once thought that he and Ghost were meant to be together, that as the runt of the litter Ghost was kin to his own bastard self. He was wrong. The smallest of the litter was kin to the smallest of the Starks.

Six direwolf pups for six Starks, for the six trueborn children of Eddard Stark. He was never meant to have one, the Gods knew he was no Stark.

As the afternoon wore on, there was still no word from his father or the King and Jon became more restless. Bran, Rickon and Tommen went inside to attend their lessons and Joffrey got bored and went back to his chambers, taking the Hound.

A few older knights, including the Kingslayer, wandered over and took their place.

"How about you and me next, bastard?" Ser Jaime suggested after he had defeated the Imp's sellsword Ser Bronn, "Greenfield has told me tales of your skill." He said this mockingly as though he doubted a boy Jon's age could have much talent with a blade.

"You should have joined your Kingsguard brother in the War Beyond the Wall, then you could have seen for yourself." Jon replied but took up the offer anyway.

"Alas my place is with the King" Ser Jaime smirked, not looking sorry at all and so they duelled.

Jon soon saw why they called him The Lion of Lannister, he was quick, precise and had a strength that Jon, as a man of only nineteen somewhat lacked. Jaime Lannister moved gracefully and elegantly as though he were dancing and the sword were merely an extension of his arm.

_He has spent all his days in training yards under Masters at arms, I wonder how he would fare in a real battle._

Jon tried a few dirty tricks he had learned from wildlings but Ser Jaime merely blocked them and smirked "This one fights like you Bronn."

Ser Bronn laughed "Not too much like me, you can tell he was raised in a fancy castle and I in the thieves market."

They continued to clash sword and although Jon disliked the man, he could not ignore the thrum of his blood from facing an opponent that was a true match to him. He was even disappointed when Ser Jaime finally bested him.

"There not so worthy after all" The Kingslayer panted and Jon could tell he might nearly have won.

The sun dipped in the sky and the air began to cool, Jon started to give up all hope of doing anything productive that day and was about to challenge Harwin when Vayon Poole came to him and said the Lord Stark was ready to receive him in his solar.

"Thank the Gods." Jon murmured.

It was starting to get dark and on his way into the castle he ran into Arya, who had come back from Winter Town and changed into breeches.

"Ready?" She asked excitedly. Jon winced.

"I'm sorry, I have to talk to Father now" He said regretfully "But we can train later, after dinner."

Arya's face fell with disappointment "It will be too dark then."

"So we'll spar inside, in the First Keep, where your mother won't see us."

Arya grinned "I'll meet you there" she agreed.

* * *

When he entered Lord Stark's solar he found his father frazzled, dealing with large piles of parchment at his desk and talking to Hullen, the Master of Horses.

"Tell this Kettleblack that he can speak to me if he has any more gripes." Lord Stark ordered "I am not going to compensate the man just because he was fool enough to bring a sick sandsteed north. Its his own fault the poor beast died and he can walk back for all I care."

"Very good m'lord" Hullen nodded.

Jon rapped his knuckles on the open door.

"Jon" His father greeted with tired relief.

"I can come back later if you are busy" Jon offered.

"No need Jon, Lord Stark and I were just finished." Hullen said and he patted Jon on the back as he left the solar.

"Close the door Jon." Jon did.

"The King will not be attending?"

"Robert drank far too much last night, he's still recovering." His father rolled his eyes but there was affection in his tone "A blessing really, having a royal party descend on Winterfell is a tiresome business and I've had too much to do anyway....Half the knights are complaining about their rooms, the sept's too small to accommodate everyone for the seventh day services and now someone's got to pay for these damn singers and jugglers that Robert picked up on his way here but won't take responsibility for."

Like Mance.

"There's also the tourney to organise as well, I suppose." Jon said lightly.

His father gave a long suffering sigh and looked upwards "Yes that bloody tourney. I suppose Robb told you about it?"

Jon nodded "I'm surprised there is enough coin for such a thing."

His father raised a knowing eyebrow "I know it sounds like a frivolity..."

"Does Robb know?"

"Don't be too harsh on your brother Jon" Lord Stark warned "The war made him into a man but while I am still Lord of Winterfell he has been floundering in the position of boy. Having only Theon for company does not help. He will have more responsibilities after the King leaves and be better for it."

Poor Robb indeed, stuck in warm Winterfell being waited on hand and foot.

"So this is about giving Robb more responsibility."

"No, its about currying favour with the Northern lords. Gods know I hate the damned spectacles but they are a good way to foster unity especially if the King is in attendance." He said "House Stark is too poor to help the Night's Watch on its own Jon. If we are to get you the men and resources you need, if we are to resettle the Gift then we need the support of the other Northern Houses."

There had been talk of resettling the Gift for years, back to when Jon was a boy and his Uncle Benjen was still alive. But in winter it seemed a barren frozen wasteland with poor yield for any prospective Lord. Most would rather remain south.

"Have you thought anymore about what I suggested?" Jon asked carefully "About inviting some of the wildlings to settle the Gift?"

Lord Stark narrowed his eyes "Yes I have" he said gravely.

"Rayder was defeated some time ago. I know of tribes that could live there peacefully, they have old folk and children." Jon argued "They know how to work that land, they've done so in worse conditions north of the Wall. They could actually make good of it."

"Jon it is not that simple..."

"It is..."

"And how would Lord Umber act if I invite the people who kidnapped his sister to live within a stone's throw of Last Hearth? Or The Glovers who have suffered wildling raids for years? Or Lord Tallhart, who lost all his sons in the War Beyond the Wall?"

"These are not the same people." Jon protested although for all he knew some of them might be. He hardly cared, this was about survival.

"They are to the North" His father said in a hard voice "Our people didn't just forget the Great Floods when Tywin Lannister sent grain north. They lost sons and daughters to the famine and bread riots. Then only a short while later they were ordered to go to war."

"Lady Dustin is avoiding paying her taxes, Roose Bolton lets his murderous son roam his lands unchallenged and the Manderlys simply breed resentment from all the other houses by being rich and following the Seven. If I let wildlings past the Wall there will be an open rebellion and we could lose Winterfell."

Jon felt his teeth grind together but he said nothing.

The sky had darkened outside and long shadows fell across Lord Stark's hard face. He got up to stoke the fire, it crackled and grew filling the room with renewed light.

"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell." He said coldly "The North is in our bones, it is our duty to protect it."

_You forget I am not a Stark old man. What do I care if wildlings or Northmen guard the Gift , what do I care for the stones Winterfell so long as the people I care for are safe._

In his wildest moments he had thought about kidnapping Arya, Bran, Rickon and Hosten when the time came and the Wall was breached. It would be pointless though, he had nowhere to take them, no ship to sail and he could not afford to spend moons ducking Stark guards with three children and a babe when his place was at the Wall.

"Jon, I can't help you and the Night's Watch if my bannermen revolt." His father said more softly.

"Were you planning to help us anyway?" Jon asked sceptically "You can't spend anymore coin, you can't get noblemen to settle the Gift..."

"That's what the tourney is for..."

"And you don't believe in the Others." Jon finished accusing in an icy tone.

"It's not that I don't believe..."

"You think I'm a green boy who saw things in battle and Stannis a madman who..."

"Stannis _was_ a madman and he lost any right to be listened to when he murdered his own daughter! If you start banding about his name under this castle, where the King rests, then Robert will slay you as he did all those on Dragonstone."

A chill went through Jon.

"I don't know what's out there, I don't pretend to. I wasn't at Hardhome but I've heard the stories and I don't think you're a green boy." His father continued. "But the fact remains that Robb and I ranged for two moons after the Battle of Craster's Keep and saw none of it. It could be what you saw at Hardhome was necromancy practiced by Rayder's men and the spells were crushed with his force."

"It wasn't necroman..."

"Whatever it was there is thousand foot Wall protecting the North from it. And if Maester Luwin tells right, a Wall with ancient magic to keep the dead out. You ought to have more faith in it."

"There are ways round the Wall, when the Bay of Seals freezes..."

"The Bay of Seals has not frozen in over a thousand years, it will not freeze this winter."

"The Bridge of Skulls then, to the west." Jon challenged.

"The Bridge of Skulls and the gorge it covers are well watched by the brothers at Shadow Tower. If any dead things get in within a fifty miles of it, they will destroy the bridge."

"So that's it" Jon huffed beyond frustrated "I'm beginning to wonder why you invited me to Winterfell at all if you will not change your mind."

"For the Gods sake I brought you here so we could talk reasonably about how the Night's Watch and the Gift will fare over winter. So we could discuss Rayder with the King." Lord Stark sighed "I also thought you might want to see your brothers and sisters, by the Others you haven't seen Sansa in five years."

Jon swallowed guiltily. He had wanted to see his brothers and sisters and appreciated the opportunity but if he couldn't get help from his father then his duty and his efforts were better spent elsewhere.

"Besides just because I can't help you doesn't mean others can't." Ned Stark continued "The King has brought a whole retinue of southern knights, lords and hangers on. A lot of them come from reasonably well off houses, take your time to meet with them whilst you are here and press the Night's Watch's case for men and gold."

_Spend your time begging he means._

"I suppose..." Jon said warily, he wasn't sure how much gold he would get out of second sons who had made their home at court because there was no use for them at their family seat.

"I would start with Tyrion Lannister. He's asked to go with you to Castle Black at the end of the visit."

"The Imp. Why?"

"He's an heir in waiting with nothing better to do. I expect he'll want to boast to his friends of standing on top of the Wall." His father shrugged "His father is the richest man in Westeros and through Sansa he has a connection to the North. Make a friend of him and he could be very helpful to the Night's Watch."

"Sansa isn't coming too, is she?"

"Gods no, the Wall is no place for a lady, especially one such as Sansa. She'll wait behind in Winterfell with her mother."

Lady Catelyn would like that. Her two most hated foes riding off to the edge of the world and leaving behind her beloved daughter in her arms. She would no doubt be praying for a sharp gust of wind at the top of the Wall.

"If that's all, it's getting late. We should go to dinner." His father said getting up.

"No wait." Jon said suddenly when his father was halfway round the desk "There is something else..."

"Oh" Lord Stark sat back down.

Jon felt uncomfortable all of a sudden but determined all the same. He got up to light another candle, it is an action that he hoped would say he intended them to be there for some time.

"I thought we might talk of my mother."

The sentence landed in the room with a soft dull thud that cleared away all that had come before it. Eddard Stark visibly deflated and hung his head, holding his forehead between his thumb and index finger.

"Jon..." He sighed quietly, as though fighting off a headache.

"I want to know her name, where she came from and where she is now." He spoke in a measured but firm tone.

His father twitched in his seat "Jon, now is not the..."

"It is the time." Jon interrupted "We were finished talking and have all evening before us. If you are hungry we can ask the servants to bring us food and we will talk while you eat."

"I understand you are frustrated but this is a delicate situation. While the King and the Lannisters are here...there is too much going on to talk of this. Lady Stark..."

"This has nothing to do with Lady Stark." Jon said impatiently "It is not news to her that I am your bastard. I am not about to sing songs about the whole tale and publicly shame her with it, if that's what concerns you."

"It is not, I know you better than that."

"So tell me her name" Jon ordered bluntly.

Lord Stark's mouth opened but nothing came out. He looked down at the desk.

"You promised." Jon hissed "You promised at Castle Black that the next time we spoke, we would talk of my mother. You promised the day I left Winterfell. You've been promising all my life."

He looked at his father coldly "You never intended to keep those promises did you?"

His father looked suddenly very old "It is not that simple." He said wearily.

"It is that simple, you lied." Jon argued.

"I did not lie, circumstances change, you are too young to understand…"

"I'm a man. I've drawn blood in battle, I killed Qhorin Halfhand so I could spy on the wildlings, I've seen and done things you can't imagine" Jon cut across him "What exactly is it that you think I won't understand. Was she a whore? Another man's wife?"

"No…"

"Did you rape her?"

His father met his eyes angrily "Is that what you think of me?" he hissed.

"I don't know what to think, you won't tell me!"

"I did all that I could for your mother!" There was passion and sadness in his voice and...longing "You have no idea the sacrifices I've made for you, all I've done for you…"

"You won't even tell me her name!"

"I do what must be done to protect this family, to protect you. If you knew of the dangers…"

Jon wasn't listening, they were on their feet now yelling at one another "Stop talking to me as though…"

"...you're a boy? You _are_ a boy. You think killing makes you a man?" Ned Stark gave a hollow laugh "You're still a boy and I'll treat you as such. You can hate me all that you want but I'll carry on protecting you because that is what _men_ do, they protect their families."

"From what? Jealous husbands or vengeful fathers?" Jon cried "All this talk of protecting me is a lie you tell yourself to hide away your shame. Well it doesn't work. The great honourable Eddard Stark betrayed his marriage vows and ruined another woman by getting a bastard on her! _But that is not my fault_ " He cried angrily "I deserve to know her name! I deserve to know if she's alive or dead!"

His father looked at him for a long time and then finally he said in a strangled whisper "She's dead."

...

Jon stood dumbly, not really seeing anything. The fight drained from his body and he felt the need to hold onto something to stop himself from tumbling to the ground.

His father swallowed heavily "It's done with. You are my blood and that is all you need to know " And before he left the solar he said to Jon with finality "We'll talk of this no more."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think, all criticism welcome


	4. Stars scattered like diamonds

**Sansa**

In Kings Landing, Sansa liked to keep to her rooms as much as she could afford and her letters gave her an excuse to do the same in Winterfell. They were an obligation and a refuge. Low and highborn ladies asked if they could write to her, Sansa wasn't always sure if they meant it or were just being polite but she diligently maintained correspondences even so.

Lord Tywin and her Uncle Arryn had always encouraged these letters. She later realised that it had occurred to them that they could get information on other houses through otherwise frivolous ladies letters. When she was at Casterly Rock, Lord Tywin read her letters first himself and both men took the time to request if some of their associates had daughters or granddaughters that could write to Sansa.

For herself, Sansa took some comfort from hearing the words of other ladies, the banality of everyday lives and carefree existences. It was a balm to the loneliness even if the correspondence was largely superficial.

Some of the ladies Sansa wrote to were married, some weren't. Most were from minor noble families and her only real equal in status was Margaery Tyrell. Margaery's letters were some of her favourites, they were fun, engaging and with a whisper of scandal. There were subtle digs for information on the Lannisters but Sansa usually picked up on those. The letter that Sansa received that morning hinted at a possible betrothal between Arya and Willas Tyrell.

_Wouldn't it be grand to call each other sisters, and then you would have no excuse for not returning Highgarden._

Sansa raised her eyebrows at this. Arya in Highgarden, amongst the roses and harpists...it sounded like a terrible idea. Not to mention the age difference, Willas Tyrell was nearly thirty - Arya would drive him batty.

She wrote back talking around the idea. It would be rude to dismiss it but she didn't want to let Arya loose on the Tyrells just because they were self conscious of their Steward's blood. Let another noble family purify their blood line.

The other letters were less significant. In the King's absence, Lollys Stokeworth wrote that Lord Renly had brought a large woman who wore armour to court and that there was talk of a masked ball. Talla Tarly feared that her father was planning a betrothal, Jaea Velaryon was going to visit her aunt at Duskendale and Lady Jeyne Westerling said that pigs had gotten loose in the Crag and chewed one of the tapestries.

After lunch she was forced to leave the safe cocoon of her childhood bedchamber to go with her mother, the Queen and other ladies to Winter Town to give alms to the poor. Cersei was not used to the cold of the North or the giving of alms and made pointed comments that not even Lady Catelyn could miss. Meanwhile Arya held up the line by yammering on to the poor about this and that until Sansa snapped and told her to hurry up. She received a vicious glare from Arya in return but at least those waiting for their monies were able to return to their livelihoods quicker.

Sansa felt most sorry for Princess Mrycella who had not been dressed properly for the occasion and returned to Winterfell a pale shade of blue. Back in the castle, Sansa retreated to her rooms again and did not leave until dinner.

She headed to Jon's room after she had dined. The keep was quiet and outside it was snowing softly.

She had decided she would make Jon a silk shirt that he could wear under his doublet. She was sure there was plenty of wool and leather at the Wall and the silk would be more comfortable against his skin than either those materials. She didn't have enough time to order any material but she did have a pink silk dress that she had grown too tall for. She would take it apart and dye it black.

A rough voice answered her knocks with a short "Enter". His room was dim, not dark exactly but it was in need of more candles. Jon was pacing the floor, his dark hair looked tangled as though he had run his hand through it more than once. His face was pinched, halfway between a frown and a scowl.

He was angry, Sansa almost took a step back, she had never seen Jon angry before.

"Am...am I disturbing you?" she asked "I can come back."

Jon looked up, his frown transforming to partial bewilderment at her presence in his chamber "No...no you're not" He can gave a tired sigh "What can I do for you, Sansa?"

"I thought to take your measurements" she raised her pocket book and measuring tape in her hand in demonstration.

"My measurements?" Jon asked in confusion. He'd forgotten.

"For the shirt I'm to make you." Sansa reminded him "Remember this morning when…"

"Oh yes…" He answered listlessly, "The shirt "

Sansa pointed in the middle of the room "Stand there please and hold out your arms."

Jon unsuccessfully struggled not to roll his eyes but he did as she bid, reluctantly raising his arms.

"I didn't see you in the hall tonight." She said, uncomfortable with the silence that reigned as she measured. "Have you eaten?"

"Aye, I took some food in the kitchens." Jon muttered.

Sansa frowned "You ought not to eat in the kitchens" This wasn't Castle Black. "If you don't wish to eat in the Hall, the servants can bring something to your rooms."

"Room" Jon corrected bitterly "And it's not for a bastard to be ordering servants about."

"Don't be silly, you're the Lord's son" She said taking the measurement of his wrist and wondering if he was being deliberately obtuse "You know you're allowed to ask the servants to bring you food."

Jon snorted.

"Hold please" She made him hold the measuring tape at his stomach and then circled his body to take the width of his waist. Both he and Robb had gotten ridiculously tall since she had last seen them and he loomed over her. Jon was leaner than Robb, who was more of a stocky build, but both had broad shoulders and muscular limbs.

"This really isn't necessary Sansa" Jon said as she wrote down some more figures in her pocket book.

"I know, I just thought you might like to wear something fine."

He frowned at the word 'fine' and warned "I'm a man of the Night's Watch. Whatever I wear has to be black."

She knew that, she wasn't _that_ stupid.

"I have some silk that I'm going to dye black." She told him.

"Silk? I...Sansa…" He groaned pinching his nose with thumb and forefinger in frustration "Sansa, I can't wear silk at the Wall, do you have any idea how impractical that is?"

"I'm not suggesting you wear just silk" she huffed, she was worried she really was being stupid but she couldn't see how and it was frustrating "It's just a shirt, you can wear it under your doublet, even under another wool shirt. It will be much more comfortable than wool against your skin."

"Sansa...Men of the Night's Watch don't wear silk."

"Says who?" Sansa asked "I'm sure plenty at Castle Black would if they could afford the material, and you can."

"Aye, I'm sure," Jon scoffed and she felt his annoyed eyes on her as she jotted down the final measurement "Is that it?"

"For now."

"For now?" Jon asked in consternation.

"I'll need to do a couple of fittings after I've cut the fabric." She told him.

Jon brought up his hand up to his face and almost groaned into his hand "Sansa, that's really not necessary."

"Of course it is." She snapped irritated. It wasn't as though he had anything else to do during his stay other than play swords in the courtyard with Robb and Theon. "I'm giving you a proper fitted shirt, it's my present to you"

"But I don't need one" Jon argued "I've gotten on just fine with the clothes provided by my brothers at the Wall."

"But don't you want something tailored." Sansa protested "Don't you remember how much nicer clothing is when it's measured just for you."

"No I don't! I've never had fitted clothing made for me!" Jon snapped.

"Oh I…" Sansa hadn't thought. She felt instantly guilty.

"What you thought Lady Stark would take the time from her duties to stitch her husband's bastard some nice shirts and breeches?" Jon scoffed with a raised voice. "You think she would give a damn if I had fine tailored clothing?"

Sansa shrunk back, as he spat the words 'Lady Stark' "You shouldn't blame my Lady Mother." She said quietly but firmly "I'm your eldest female family member, it was my responsibility to sew for you."

Jon gave a cold laugh and walked away to glare into the fire "You were a child…"

"Even so, I'm your eldest female…"

"Are you?" Jon asked coldly "How do you know I don't have an aunt or a grandmother out there? Hells, I may have more sisters! Do you know if I have more sisters Sansa? Because I don't!"

Sansa sucked in a breath. He was speaking of his mother, nobody ever spoke of Jon's mother.

"I…" She had no idea what she was supposed to say. "Didn't...didn't father tell you anything?"

Jon laughed coldly, his eyes were hard but sad "He won't even tell me her name. I only found out today that she is dead."

Oh, that's why he was so angry.

He sunk down into the chair by the fire, his body hanging utterly dejectedly. He looked wretched.

Sansa hovered awkwardly in the middle of the room. She twisted her fingers as she thought desperately of something to say. He looked so furious, so miserable that she wished she could comfort him somehow. She suddenly wished Arya or Robb were here. They knew Jon much better than her, they would know what to say. She wondered if she should hug him but feared it would be awkward and uncomfortable for them both.

"You don't have to stay here." Jon muttered quietly as he stared at the floor.

Sansa fled.

She was halfway along the corridor before she felt the first twinge of guilt that quickly bloomed into a dull ache. She tried to sooth it. Jon didn't want her with him at this time anymore that she wanted to be there. It was good that she had left. She had given him the space to deal with the misery alone.

She stopped and lent against wall staring out of an opposite window at the night sky. It was a clear night and the sky was scattered with stars, hundreds of them shining down on Winterfell like specks of diamond.

Sansa thought of Jon's long face and his pained eyes, she couldn't remember when she had realised he was a bastard, when she had been told he was different from Robb. Maybe no-one needed to tell her, maybe she always knew he was different.

Winterfell was silent to talk of the woman who had given birth to Jon Snow but Sansa had felt her presence before. The hurt in her Lady Mother's heart, the sadness in Jon's dark grey eyes.

She turned in the passage way and walked back to his small bastard's room. The door was still open and Jon remained hunched by the fire, his hands clasped in front of him and his head hanging, brushing his lap.

Sansa tapped on the door. His head jerked up and he seemed as surprised to see her back as he had been earlier. She closed the door and quietly sat in front of him.

A string of silence followed where they just heard the crackle of the fire, before she spoke.

"People talk at court, people talk a lot." She said in a soft voice "There's not much to do there except gossip. Tyrion says if there is one thing the Red Keep does well, it's wine and whispering."

Jon didn't really look as though he's paying attention, he just twists his head and stares into the fire.

"Most of its rubbish and rumour, you should hear the things they say about me, my husband, my mother..."

"Sansa..." Jon sounded tired, annoyed, as though he'd rather just go to sleep than hear her prattle on about something girly and unimportant. Sansa bristled.

"Do know of Lady Ashara Dayne?"

Jon frowned wearily "Dayne? As in Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword in the Morning?"

Sansa almost groaned, because of course the only Dayne he knows of is the famous swordsman, he and Robb are such boys sometimes.

Instead she just nods "She was Ser Arthur's sister. They say she was very beautiful, she was Princess Elia's lady in waiting." She paused "They say father...that he danced with her at the Tourney of Harrenhal and...well...you know father, he never dances."

Jon had tensed now, there was all of a sudden an anxious stillness to him and she knew he knew what she was trying to say. How could he not for their father never danced. They make a joke of it, her mother and Uncle Benjen teased him about it, he didn't even dance at his own wedding. Sansa has never ever seen her father dance, but they say he danced with Ashara Dayne. Even those who do not gossip, like her Uncle Arryn seem to agree he danced with Lady Ashara Dayne.

"People think...People, at court, they think..."

"That she's my mother." Jon finished in a very hoarse voice. He's looking at her intently now, his cold grey eyes yearning as though he'd like to rip every bit of knowledge she has on Lady Dayne from her skull but is too polite to ask.

She nodded and Jon gulped, after a few moments he said "Father killed Arthur Dayne."

"He can't have known" Sansa protested immediately "He can't have known about you or he never would have fought Ser Arthur."

Jon snorted. When did this happen? Jon worshiped their father, they all did, when did that change?

"He can't have." Sansa insisted. She couldn't bare the idea that her father knowingly killed Jon's uncle, he can't have found out about Jon until he returned Ser Arthur's sword to Starfall.

"What...What happened to her?" Jon asked, his voice still horribly hoarse.

Sansa wished he had asked her any question but that.

"She...she died." He already knew that.

"How?"

"She...it must have been hard." She contended "If she loved father, if she bore his son...it must have been so hard..."

"Sansa..." Now when he says her name it is almost as though he is begging.

"They say that when Father brought back Ser Arthur's sword to Starfall...they say she was so overcome with grief that she..." She took a deep breath "That she threw herself from one of the castle towers."

Jon exhaled a pained shuddering breath.

Sansa felt wretched and Jon looked worse than he had before. She should have kept her mouth shut.

"I'm sorry, its just gossip." She said trying to reassure him "People at court say all sorts of things, most of it is falsehoods. I shouldn't have said anything."

"No." Jon shook his head " No, I'm glad you told me." He didn't look glad "At the very least I should know what people are saying about me."

Sansa knew there was some objective truth to that but she couldn't help but feel that perhaps her father was right not to say anything for it was such a sad story.

**Jon**

Jon did not sleep well that night and woke long before the dawn. In a fit of frustration he kicked the furs from him and lay on the mattress staring out at the black sky, waiting for sunrise.

The bed was small and didn't fit him properly, he had been given it when he was seven and it was a child's bed in truth. It was a child size room but nobody had ever gotten him anything better because he wasn't supposed to be an adult at Winterfell. Because he was a bastard.

Sansa wasn't supposed to live full grown at Winterfell either but he was sure Lady Stark had gifted her favourite child with the biggest and best chambers available in the family rooms. He felt no bitterness. He had been waiting nineteen years to find out about his mother and it had been Sansa of all people who had told him. He supposed that wasn't surprising really, of course people gossiped about Eddard Stark's bastard, about the only stain on his honour and of course Sansa, who was all sweetness and politeness had told him what he had said he had wanted to hear.

He thought of Lady Stark. Did she know? She had been betrothed to his Uncle Brandon, did he tell her of how his brother, who never danced, had danced at Harrenhal? Did Catelyn Tully and Brandon Stark share careless words on the eve of their wedding wondering if Ned had fallen in love with the beautiful Dornish Lady in Waiting?

Did she see them dancing now when she closed her eyes?

Did she see in Ashara Dayne in her husband's bastard? Sometimes Jon hated how much he looked like his father, that he could never look in the mirror and see glimpses of the mother he had never known.

Sansa had said it was just gossip, that it might not be true but...but Father had danced with her. Lord Stark never danced.

Jon suddenly found himself thinking of what would have happened if his Uncle Brandon had lived and his father had been free. If Rhaegar Targaryen had never stolen Lyanna Stark, his Uncle Brandon would have lived and married Catelyn Tully. His father would have been free then, he might have married Lady Ashara, he, Jon, would have been trueborn - his father's heir. He could have had a name. He could have had true brothers and sisters, no servants would have pitied him, Theon could not have sneered at him. He would have ridden into battle wearing Stark colours, fought alongside Ser Arthur Dayne, maybe even visited Starfall and been met by uncles, aunts and cousins he had never known.

He could have had a mother's love.

No.

His mother was dead. She had taken her life. She had killed herself because his father had killed her brother, his uncle.

He felt sick every time he thought of it, was this why his father had never told him anything - because he was ashamed? Did Ned Stark feel guilt over Lady Ashara's death? He must do.

_He should do._

Had he known about him then? Had Ned Stark known that Ser Arthur Dayne's sister carried his child when he cut him down? Did he know they were kin? Sansa thought not but then Sansa was sweet and a romantic. Dayne was guarding Lyanna Stark, what was the idea of a babe in the womb compared to a real living sister?

Feeling churlish and like he wanted to hit something, Jon could no longer remain abed. A crack of light had appeared on the horizon and he threw himself out of bed and dressed. He stalked the passageways and spiral staircases of Winterfell. Outside in the courtyard it had began to lightly snow and the cracks in the cobbles had frosted over. Nobody else was awake but for a few guards and the man that fed the pigs at this ungodly hour.

Jon went to the Library tower where he searched with frustration for the book he was looking for. _'The Great Houses of Dorne'_ by Maester Derwyn. There in the middle of the book was the chapter on House Dayne, the old Kings of the Torrentine, lists of former Swords in the Morning and a description of the exulted greatsword Dawn. On the opposite page there was a painted illustration of Starfall with its high arched windows, bright white stone and elegant spires. Jon felt his anger ebb away as his fingers longingly traced the path from the tallest of the spindly towers down to over the sharp cliffs of the Red Mountains and into the rocky turbulent waters where the Torrentine met the sea. The book said the tower was called the Palestone Sword.

He looked at the family tree, there were dates of death beside Ser Arthur, Lady Ashara and their older brother Lord Ayron but a younger sister, Lady Allyria, still appeared to live, as did Ayron's son Edric, the current Lord of Starfall. Jon saw that his cousin was five and ten years old. _His_ cousin. Not Robb's or Sansa's or even Arya's. These people, his aunt and cousin, were his and his alone.

Did they know about him? 

Jon turned the page to read about the cadet branch of House Dayne when he became aware that someone else was moving around in the library. Alert, he snapped the book closed and held it close to his chest as he peered around the stacks.

It was Sansa.

Jon was surprised to see her up so early and startled at seeing her again so soon. She had his back to him as she perused the shelves and he stood there for a minute taking her in. She was wearing a pale pink dress with pretty red roses embroidered at the hem and round her waist.

"Oh" She gasped in surprise when she turned round and spotted him.

"Hi" he said sheepishly and took a tentative step towards her.

It became clear neither of them knew what to say to one another after last night.

"I had not thought to see anyone here so early" Sansa said.

"Nor I you"

"What are you reading?" She asked politely

Jon raised the book so she could see the title.

"Oh...right...of course." she said sounding flustered.

"I..I thought…." He stuttered "Have you ever met them...the Daynes, I mean?"

He thought she might have and wondered if Lady Allyria was one of the many ladies of her correspondence. To his disappointment, Sansa shook her head "Dornish nobles rarely come to the capital nowadays." She explained "And they hate Lannisters."

"Um…" Jon hesitated stupidly "I'm sorry for how I spoke to you last night." He rushes out "It was poorly done. I shouldn't have raised my voice or spoken like that about Lady Stark."

Sansa bit her lip and looked at him with worry in those vivid blue eyes "You won't let her hear about any of this, will you Jon?" she asked "I wouldn't want to hurt her."

Jon's skin pinched with irritation. Eddard Stark was the one that had dishonoured his wife and now Jon and Sansa must skulk about and pretend as though they do not even know the name of Jon's dead mother. All to protect the great Lady of Winterfell from her own husband's folly.

"I won't" Jon promised "I have no desire to cause your mother pain."

The words were true enough. Not because he particularly cared for Lady Catelyn but because he loved her children, even Robb, and did not wish to distress them by bringing up old ghosts. It would be a poor way to repay Sansa for what she has told him.

"What book did you get?" Jon asked gesturing to the old shabby grey tome she cradled in her arms.

"Oh…" Sansa looked briefly startled by the question but then bent her head to read the title "It's _The North of the North: An Account of the People and Practices of the Gift and the Bay of Seals_ by Maester Egbert."

Jon frowned, trying not to smile "That doesn't sound like something you would be interested in."

"Its not" Sansa admitted with a sheepish smile "I thought Tyrion might like it. He reads a lot and he always likes to know things about places before he visits them."

_He'll go to the Wall but not to the Bay of Seals or Skagos, I'll see to that_ , Jon thought.

"That's wise." he said instead.

* * *

On the way back to the Great Keep, Jon was stopped short by a furious looking Arya. She was wearing such a glare that for a horrible moment he was reminded of Lady Catelyn.

_Oh fuck._

"Arya..."

"You promised!" She spat "I was waiting in the First Keep for hours! They'd already locked the front door when I finally gave up and I had to bang on it so they would let me in!"

"I'm so sorry Arya. I got caught up talking with father about the Watch and..."

"And what? You couldn't find me afterwards? Not even to apologise?"

"I just..." Jon sighed, feeling guiltier by the second.

"If you didn't want to spar with me you just had to say so" Arya said waspishly "Maybe you think I should be like all the other soppy ladies and sit around in a nice dress playing the harp all day?"

"No, you know I don't think that" Jon groaned "Things just got away from me last night..."

He trailed off for a second, Mance had appeared, twenty feet behind Arya leaning against a Wall and looking meaningfully at Jon.

"I'll make it up to you I swear."

"When?" Arya challenged "Now?"

Jon winced "I can't now, but..." Arya's face darkened.

"My lady..."

"What!" Arya snapped at poor Beth Cassel who had just come across them.

"Arya!" Jon scolded when his sister didn't look the least bit apologetic for causing little Beth to cower back.

"What is it Beth?" Arya asked in a sickly sweet voice.

"Y...You're lady mother asked if you would like to do needlework with her and Lady Sansa."

Arya scowled "Tell her you couldn't find me" she ordered and stormed off.

Jon rolled his eyes and sighed, ignoring the fidgeting, twitching Beth. Arya was still just a child, how could he possibly explain everything to her?

Further along the passage Mance beckoned.

* * *

"Well it was always a Dornishman's chance in winter that Lord Stark would change his mind" Mance sighed after Jon had finished retelling his conversation from the previous evening .

They had climbed up the broken Bell Tower where they would not be disturbed or observed. Only Bran ever ventured to the abandoned old structure and at that moment he was trapped in lessons with Maester Luwin.

Jon leaned against the window sill, watching for any that might approach them. Osha sat in a corner sharpening the knife that she usually kept under her skirts while Mance played with his son in the middle of the floor.

"That's it, steady now." Mance carefully lifted his boy onto his little feet. Dallan swayed, eyes wide with alarm, Mance kept both hands hovering close to his sides.

Eventually the child realised he wasn't going to fall and gave a loud "Bah!" Of delight.

Mance roared with laughter and snatched up his son in his arms to tickle him until the boy was shrieking with delight.

Did he know? Did he know that the strange kind man was his father? He couldn't possibly, Jon thought, he was just a happy child that liked happy people.

"I can't believe you got away with naming him Dallan." Mance chuckled.

"Dallan!" Dallan stuck out his chubby little fist.

"Aye that's your name isn't it." Mance cooed. Jon tried not to raise an eyebrow, the King of the Wildlings, the last hope against the Others, the savage that scared even Ned Stark was cooing.

"The boy ought not to have a name, its bad luck." Osha grumbled.

"We're south of the Wall now. My father and his wife would have named him if I hadn't and they are not so cruel as to deny a babe the chance to honour his dead mother" Jon said.

"He looks just like Dalla." Mance said regretfully.

"You can't take him Mance" Jon warned, wary of Mance's longing expression "It's a bloody miracle we've deceived Winterfell and the Night's Watch for this long. If Dallan goes missing, they'll swarm the Gift like flies on a cow's carcass."

Mance sniffed irritated but did not disagree.

"He's better off here Mance." Osha added "It's warm here in Winterfell, these strong walls protect even the harshest winds and there's always food."

"There's a Maester here too. Dallan will learn to read and write and he'll learn to fight from a proper Master at arms." Jon continued.

"He won't learn to be free though will he?" Mance argued "This place is no better than a fancy cage."

"Better a fancy cage than a hole in the ground." Jon said.

Mance grumbled. "Dallan! Tah!" Dallan squeaked and he poked his father's cheek gently which brought a smile back to the old man's face.

"How are you for food?" Jon asked.

"We'll live, the sea is full of fish and there are mushrooms and pinecones in the forest.."

"Those won't last forever and your people will get sick if they eat only fish for too long."

"I know that." Mance said calmly "But we have the Skagosi stores to see us through for a few more moons."

Jon raised his eyebrows "You took the stores? And the Skagosi didn't have anything to say about this?"

"Aye, they said some things." Mance replied obliquely, scratching his chin "Don't look so shocked boy. You knew we had to take the island sooner or later. The Skagosi may know what's coming and they may hate kneelers but even they had their limits."

They were letting more wildlings through the Nightfort tunnel every day, Jon had known for a while that Mance's people could not fit and survive on the smaller island of Skane forever, he just hadn't liked to think about it.

"They would've ratted us out to the elder Stark if we hadn't stepped up. Enough of my people have worked out you're helping us and then it would be both our heads on the chopping block."

"When did this happen?" Jon asked. He thought about asking if there had been much blood shed but realised didn't want to know the answer to that either.

"Four moons ago."

"Four...Seven hells Mance, you couldn't have told me?!"

"Oh because I haven't been doing anything else? I have fifty different clans trapped on an island chain together, the food is running out and I have to plan what happens when the Bay freezes and the Others come. Taking Skagos wasn't easy, now on top of everything I have prisoners to deal with." Mance griped "This can't go on boy."

"I know" Jon admitted through gritted teeth.

"You should give us more ships. Then we could sale to the Eastern continent and make a new life away from the Others." Osha argued.

"You've heard what happens to freefolk we've sent to the Free Cities. They're easy prey for slavers." There were reports that slavers had of late become even more desperate and cruel in the West of Essos as Daenerys Targaryen continued to disrupt the trade in the East.

"So we'll sale along the coast of the Shivering Sea. I've seen the maps in Maester Luwin's tower, there's plenty of land that is empty of folks. We could settle there..."

"No." Jon interrupted "The deal was that if I let wildlings past the Wall then you would fight with us in the Great War to come."

"I made no deal."

"But your King did." Jon said coldly. Mance stayed silent and held his face still. "I don't have command over Nights Watch ships and even if I did I wouldn't give them to wildlings. None of you can sail them, you'd all drown."

"What do I care of Kings promises?" Osha scoffed "I don't plan to die. I'll just take Dallan and Hosten and board ship from White Harbor to the Summer Isles."

Jon lurched forwards and pulled Longclaw half from its scabbard "You go anywhere with my little brother and I'll slit your throat." He hissed.

"That's enough!" Mance shouted jumping between the pair on them. On the floor Dallan started to snivel. "There will be no talk of slitting throats!" He pointed angrily at Jon and turned to Osha "And you - there will be no talk of running away! We are First Men, this is our land and we will fight for it. We will fight the Others for it. And then, when the fighting is done, if the kneelers won't give us our due we'll fight them for it as well!"

Jon nodded apologetically at Osha and she mirrored the action.

"You'll get the Gift, I swear I'll make it happen." Jon promised. He wasn't sure how yet, whether by talk or force, but he would make it happen.

"See that you do or I'll cut your fucking throat myself." Mance said

Dallan's red face scrunched up and he began to bawl.

"Take him back to the nursery" His father ordered "I'll see him later."

Osha did as she was bid and shot Jon a glare as she left. Mance gave a tired sigh.

"I mean it Mance" Jon said once she was gone "If she takes my little brother…"

"Osha's not going anywhere. She knows the dangers of Essosi slavers as much as anyone." Mance scoffed "You know that, there was no reason to threaten her."

"She talked of…"

"She's scared. We all are. People say stupid things when they are scared." Mance argued "What's your excuse?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? I mean you've been under a dark cloud so big you would have thought the Storm God himself had shown up."

Jon snorted in dismissal.

"What's wrong lad? You didn't really think Lord Stark would suddenly hand the Gift over to a bunch of wildling savages. That he'd suddenly start believing fairy tales north of the Wall."

"He doesn't disbelieve." Jon muttered under his breath.

"Not the fucking point. Words are wind and you've known your father's words for a long time now." Mance dismissed "Are you going to tell me what's put you in such a mood that you're ready to pull steel on poor Osha?"

Jon's veins thrummed and he thought of storming off. Mance merely rested against the window sill with an expression that denoted that he was waiting.

"I may have found out who my mother was." Jon said quietly.

"Ah" Mance nodded in understanding "Dare I ask?"

Jon swallowed "Have you ever heard of Lady Ashara Dayne of Starfall?"

Mance looked down at the ground "I had heard rumours."

_"You knew?"_

"I heard rumours boy" Mance corrected "Another told me it was the daughter of some fisherman, Lord Commander Qorgyle thought it were Barbrey Dustin."

"Seven hells" Jon muttered with disgust. Had he been condemned to years in ignorance simply because he didn’t partake in gossip?

"Apparently she was very friendly with your Uncle Brandon once upon a time." Mance said with an arched eyebrow. "I think he might have got the two Stark brothers confused."

"So everyone has a theory on who my mother may be?"

"People talk, they take pleasure that the great honourable Eddard Stark might not be so honourable after all. That behind his impressive castle and just rule, he's only a man like the rest of us."

"He is at that." Jon agreed darkly.

Mance narrowed his eyes "Have you actually asked your father about this?"

Jon laughed darkly "For years and he's been avoiding the subject for years. I confronted him last night and he ordered me not to speak of it again" He then spat "He said it was for my protection."

"That doesn't sound like old Ned. Maybe he truly means to protect you." Mance frowned "I can't tell you the number of words I've had in my head where I tell Dallan of his mother. He wouldn't deny you her memory for no good reason."

"That's different, you loved Dalla. The only thing my father cares about is his name and his honour. He killed Arthur Dayne and drove the mother of his child to her death." Jon said coldly. "He's ashamed and he should be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think (positive and negative criticism welcome)


	5. Ask me no questions

**Sansa**

"I'm sorry my lady." Beth Cassel squeaked apologetically.

"It is not your fault Beth." Lady Stark replied before closing the door. She returned to the hearth and said with a forced smile "Arya can not be found. It looks like it is just us."

"And Hosten and Ghost." Sansa said nodding to the babe and the direwolf that lay on the carpet between them. Ghost was stretched out in front of the hearth acting as a barrier to stop Hosten from getting too close to the flames. Meanwhile her little brother was sitting up and having great fun pulling at an old ball of yarn

Sansa's mother gave another little smile but it didn't reach her eyes "I don't know what I'm going to do with that girl." She sighed "She's stubborn to the point of plain belligerence ."

"She doesn't want to be a lady." Sansa said simply.

"Oh I know that well enough. Ten and four years of skipped lessons and torn dresses have taught me that well." Catelyn muttered "What is it that you are making?"

Sansa had the old white silk dress on her lap and was picking it apart at the seams. "Just a shirt, the dress is too small now and I'm going to ask Mistress Poole to dye the fabric."

Catelyn nodded "Is it for Tyrion?"

Sansa gave a half nod, she did not want to lie but she knew it would upset her mother if she brought Jon Snow into the conversation.

"How is he enjoying Winterfell?" Her mother asked "I hope he finds it well, then you may visit again."

Sansa was not sure, she had barely spoken with her husband since they arrived "I don't think he is used to the cold." She ventured "But I'm sure he will like the Library Tower. He's a great reader."

"Oh is he?" Her mother said sounding surprised if not a little impressed "And is he good to you?"

Sansa was beginning to understand why the other ladies hadn't joined them "He...he is not bad, he is...kind." She answered truthfully.

"He doesn't...bother you too much?" Her mother asked, fear laced in her voice.

Sansa felt herself flush and shook her head "He has...he...there are other women he goes to."

"Oh" Lady Catelyn muttered under her breath "And do you know if he has a mistress?"

Sansa could tell from her mother's tone that it would be better if Tyrion did not have a mistress "He does not" she lied.

"Good" her mother said with pursed lips "I will speak with your father. He will tell your husband not to dishonour you in this way."

"No please..." Sansa cried, absolutely mortified at the thought of such a conversation taking place "I do not mind...and he would never think of carrying on in such a way while at Winterfell."

Her mother frowned "Sansa, you should not accept this sort of behaviour. If you are too frightened of Tyrion then..."

"No, I...I'm not frightened of him" Sansa said truthfully "It's just that..."

Her mother looked at her sympathetically, Sansa knew the expression well, it meant _you are still a child_.

"I can understand that it might be tempting to leave Tyrion to such...pursuits. To have his attentions directed elsewhere. But you have to think of your future children, what if he were to get a bastard on one of these women?"

Like father did. _A bastard like Jon would not be so bad though_ she thought, _a sweet kind child we could raise as our own. I would never have to couple with him if another woman gave him a babe._

"What if I don't want children?" Sansa asked quietly.

"I know the prospect may seem scary now but children are a blessing. I promise nothing will give you as much happiness as a child." Her mother said kindly "It is one of the only duties that bring all wives joy."

Her duty. It was her duty to provide Tyrion with an heir. But why? There was no shortage of male Lannisters and it was not as though Lord Tywin wanted to give them the Rock. He might yet still find some way to remove Tyrion from the succession.

He mother must have realised that she was not convinced "If it is the birthing bed you fear, that is natural." She said "But you come from a long line of women who have been successful in childbirth. I have had Luwin research the matter thoroughly and it seems there is every chance that you might even have a normal child."

Sansa frowned, confused "What do mean _normal_ child?"

"Well I...not a dwarf." Her mother explained as though it were obvious.

"Oh..." Sansa supposed it probably was obvious but, strange as it was, she sometimes forgot Tyrion was a dwarf. When they had first been betrothed, the fact that her husband was shorter than she with stubby legs and mismatched eyes was all she could think of.

Now it was just something other people used to make fun of them.

She had known Tyrion too long, his height was like his hair colour - it was just there. She thought more on his drinking, whoring and mocking cleverness.

She would rather have a short clever child than a stupid big one.

"Aunt Lysa lost her babes." Sansa said quietly. Her aunt had given birth to one stillborn boy while she had been in Kings Landing but there were other lost babes beforehand.

"Yes" her mother admitted sadly. "I'm sure she found great comfort in your presence."

"She didn't let me in the room."

"No doubt she wanted to protect you from the sight." _She hates me,_ Sansa thought, but she did not disabuse her mother of her comforting illusions of a good, loving sister. "I should have been there more for her."

She wondered if she would ever romanticize Arya. Ever miss her so much and be parted for so long that she would forget her little sister's character.

"Were you close with Aunt Lysa?" Sansa asked.

"Were we ever like you and Arya, you mean?" Catelyn raised an eyebrow "We were close but not as sisters to my regret. My mother died when we were young and I had to be mother and sister to Lysa and Edmure both. Lysa was so shy growing up, I had hopes she would find a husband who would bring her confidence."

"My uncle was a good husband." Sansa said.

"I've no doubt. Jon Arryn always seems to gain praises from Starks. It's a shame she could not have had a younger man though."

"There are worse men." Sansa said privately thinking that her bitter harridan of an aunt was lucky to have married a man as good as Jon Arryn.

"Yes but I am her sister. I wanted her to have the best. I wanted you to have the best."

_But you couldn't because the Great Rains came and Father couldn't feed the North._

"I remember the day they married her to Jon Arryn. She looked so small and frightened next to that solemn old man." Catelyn said "I cried that night on your father's shoulder. Then she was taken away to the Eyrie and we have seen each other a scant few times since."

For a fleeting moment Sansa felt a stab of pity for the separated sisters. "But you wrote?"

"Of course, every sennight at first but then life began to get in the way. I had Robb and became Lady of Winterfell. I wasn't able to write as much then."

"That's more than me and Arya."

"Arya.." Her mother hesitated clearly struggling with what words to use "Writing is not something she takes too..."

"She hates me." Sansa summarised.

"Oh Sansa don't be so ridiculous." Catelyn scoffed "Arya is your sister, of course she loves you. It is only that you are so very different. Lysa and I used to swim in the Green Fork and put on little plays for our septa. You and Arya would never to anything with each other. She's always despised needlework and you were hardly one to run around with the boys."

Sansa sometimes wondered why her parents let Arya run so wild. Surely they knew she could not do so once she was married. Maybe they hoped she would grow out of it.

"And of course it was just us in Riverrun...and Petyr of course. You and Arya had other companions you could choose, your brothers and Jeyne Poole and Beth Cassel and..."

"Why did Jeyne marry so young?" Sansa asked abruptly and her mother looked taken aback by the sudden interruption.

"It was hardly young" Her mother said. It was. Fifteen was older than Sansa but young for a steward's daughter with little dowry or influence. "Caleo Prestayn lives in Braavos, a long betrothal would have been impractical. Their fathers felt it better that they marry and cross the Narrow Sea together"

There were betrothals forged across the Narrow Sea everyday.

"I always thought she would stay at Winterfell to become a lady in waiting like Sonya and Beth" Sansa said. Indeed she had thought of asking Jeyne to be her lady in waiting if she could somehow get rid of Kitty.

"And so she would've if there had been any spots open but you know your father. I could hardly ask him to let me take another lady when one was not needed, especially after the famine. You needn't worry about Jeyne" Lady Stark continued "The Prestayns may be merchants but they are very wealthy and Caleo and his father both have honourable reputations. I am sure Jeyne lives quite well."

Sansa bit her lip to stop herself from saying more. If there was more to this story then her mother would not be the one to divulge it.

"But...oh drat." The thread she had been unpicking had tangled in a large ugly knot, if she pulled any further it would tear the fabric.

"Here let me see" Catelyn asked putting aside her own sewing. Sansa handed her the white silk, her mother took out a pair of tiny scissors and started to skilfully cut away the thread whilst preserving the fabric.

To her regret Sansa's mother had other duties to attend to and could not sit with her daughter all day. Later, when Catelyn went to speak to the cook, Sansa took Hosten and Ghost back to the nursery.

To her surprise, it was empty when she arrived and she had to wait a few minutes with her little brother, before Osha and the wildling prince returned.

"Where were you?" Sansa asked.

"Just took the little babe for a walk m'lady." Osha said in a sickly tone that held traces of mocking. This woman was far too obstinate for a commoner.

Sansa reluctantly left Hosten in the care of the nursery and then went to the Steward's rooms.

"What colour do you want it?" Mistress Poole asked holding up the now unpicked white silk.

"Black."

Mistress Caril Poole frowned as if to ask if she was sure "It can't be re-dyed once its gone black."

"I know." Sansa said "That doesn't matter."

Jeyne's mother shrugged and sunk the cloth into a pot of water to soak and then let it simmer over the fire.

Sonya Poole brought plates of cheese and bread for their lunch and her little sister Nelly joined them.

"Its so good to have you back Sansa." Sonya beamed hugging her.

Sansa shot a startled look at Nelly, before she had left Winterfell Sonya had always been the older, more aloof of the Poole girls, too mature to indulge Sansa and Jeyne in their games and gossip.

Nelly gave a dramatic roll of her eyes "Ignore her" she said "Sonya's brain has turned to mush ever since she started carrying on with Jory."

"Nelly! What a thing to say, what will Lady Sansa think of us." Her mother cried "It truly is wonderful to see you back in these halls my lady. I have not seen Lady Catelyn so content since you left and to see the happiness in Lord Stark's eyes..."

She was gushing, it was why Sansa had always liked the Pooles. They were such nice people, even going so far as to pretend her presence made an impact on Lord Eddard Stark, who had a thousand and one other things to worry about, never mind his least favourite child.

The Poole rooms were always warm and cosy, they had been built to live in rather than convey messages of status. Many times as a little girl, when she had finished her lessons and her mother was busy, Sansa would giggle and play in front of the fire with Jeyne and Beth Cassel. Sometimes Mistress Poole and Sonya, who waited on Lady Stark, would flit in and out or watch the girls with amused smiles as they knitted in the corner, while Nelly, then still a baby would place with the balls of wool.

"Are you really carrying on with Jory?" Sansa asked, trying not to giggle.

"We are not carrying on, we are betrothed." Sonya said in a hard voice that appeared to be primarily directed at Nelly.

"Hardly." Nelly snorted "Father won't even set a moon for you both to go in front of the heart tree."

"Nelly be kind" Caril Poole warned "Jory and Sonya are betrothed. Your father has simply asked that they wait a little."

"Until Jory isn't such an idiot." Nelly giggled.

"Until both of them are more mature." Her mother corrected. It seemed fifteen was old enough for Jeyne to marry but her sister Sonya was still too young at nineteen.

"Jory is not an idiot." Sonya said crossly and Sansa thought the normally cool woman must be very much in love to show such emotion "And father is being ridiculous, if Jory were not mature and responsible then Lord Stark wouldn't have made him Captain of the Guard."

Sansa bit her lip and tried not to laugh "Didn't he forget his own name day once?"

Nelly laughed loudly "And do you remember when he thought that Winterfell was under attack and called for the guard to assemble only to realise that the sound had been hail on the roof."

Sansa chuckled and even Caril Poole struggled not to smile.

Sonya gave a huff of annoyance and muttered something about him growing up a lot since then.

"Ignore them Sonya, Jory is a fine young man and you will be married in due course." Her mother reassured her. She reached across to the bubbling pot and stirred the soaking fabric with a long wooden stick.

"Tell that to father, after what happened with Jeyne you would have thought he would want us married as soon as possible" Sonya said crossly.

Mistress Poole went somewhat still. "Why _did_ Jeyne get married so quickly?" Sansa asked

"She fell in love with Caleo and it was felt that a long betrothal across the Narrow Sea..."

"It was a good way to get her away from Theon." Nelly muttered under her breath.

"Theon?" Sansa asked.

"Nelly!" Scolded Mistress Poole. "That's enough."

"No, please, I want to know." Sansa begged.

Jeyne's mother looked torn between an obvious desire to obey her mistress and Sansa's pleas.

"It was nothing, Jeyne merely got fancy notions in her head about Theon." She dismissed "I need to speak to the washerwomen, excuse me my lady."

Caril Poole gave a little curtsey and left the chambers.

"She's still ashamed" Sonya said under breath "I don't blame her, Jeyne behaved ridiculously."

"Nobody forced Theon to encourage her." Nelly snapped "She said it was his idea to go behind the stables not hers."

"I thought Jeyne had a fancy for Robb." Sansa said.

"She did, but then she was attacked by wildlings in the Wolfswood when we were out picking..."

"Attacked!" Sansa cried in alarm.

"That was nothing" Sonya dismissed "Wildlings have been sneaking past the Wall even more since Mance Rayder was defeated. But they're usually in small family groups and are so hungry that they are barely a threat. The ones that encountered Jeyne didn't even touch her, just looked at her funny."

"Theon came and stuck them full of arrows." Nelly continued "Ever since then she became cuckoo after him. Sewing him favours, watching him spar...and he flirted right back."

"Slimy kraken creep." Sonya muttered.

"Jeyne swears he didn't take her maidenhead but we know they got up to something because Ser Rodrik found them behind the stables with Theon's hands up her skirts."

Sansa gasped. "And so she was married off?"

Sonya nodded "Mother's father has long had dealings with the Prestayns so mother trusted them and Lord Stark was good enough to provide a dowry large enough to satisfy Caleo's father."

"I can't believe Theon would be so dreadful." Sansa said.

"He was always dreadful." Sonya replied "He just hid it around you little ones."

"All men are beasts when it comes to women, they only want what is up our skirts." Nelly said in a knowing tone.

Sonya looked down her nose at her sister as if she were three instead of only one and ten. "Don't be silly. There are just as many good men as bad ones."

"Is Tyrion a good man?" Nelly asked Sansa eagerly.

"Yes he is." Sansa replied honestly.

"Good" Sonya said "He doesn't try to couple with you too much does he? Tell me if he does, you're still a bit young to birth a babe."

Sansa wondered what Sonya would do of she told her Tyrion was a molesting maniac. Did she plan to set poor Jory on the Queen's brother and presumptive heir to Casterly Rock.

She shook her head "No, it's not like that. He is kind." she said truthfully.

"But you have bedded him, haven't you?" Nelly pressed "On your wedding night, to consummate the marriage?"

"I..."

"Nelly, don't be so rude! It is hardly your business what they did!" Sonya scolded.

"I only wanted to know what it was like. Bedding always sounds painful to me but I thought with a dwarf it might not be so bad because of his small member."

"Nelly!" And this time it was both girls who scolded.

**Ned**

Robert looked tired.

Time had been cruel to them but crueler to Robert. His face was bloated and haggard, the skin over his jowly cheeks had become oily and thin. Grey hair had started to sprout among those once flowing raven locks and what was once muscle was now flab and fat.

"Two years." Robert growled lowly, he banged the table with his tankard of mead "Two years since that cannibal attacked the Wall and for two years he's roamed free."

The king drank the remains of his drink, drops of brown liquid dribbled down into his bristly beard.

"Another" he called and his golden haired squire, Lancel Lannister, nearly tripped over himself to refill the King's cup.

They said the King drank like a fish nowadays. There was even a little ditty circling the realms, Ned struggled to remember it, something about Robert being too drunk to find his way to the throne room and naming a pig as High Septon. Ned supposed he would drink more if he had to endure Robert's memories and losses.

He was sober now though, sober enough that after two days they could at last discuss Rayder and the Nights Watch.

"When I think about what that man did to your brother Ned..." Robert lamented. _When you think about what fighting him did to your own..._

"We will find him your grace." Robb said confidently "There is word of him hiding in on the Frozen Shore. My brother, Jon has sent rangers to scout out his location. When we receive their raven I will take a party of men myself."

"Make sure you bring him back alive." Robert said "I want to kill him myself in Kings Landing."

Sitting slightly behind him, Ned saw Jaime Lannister's mouth twitch with a hint of a smirk.

_Kingslayer._

How could Robert stand to have such a man in his Kingsguard?

"Yes your grace." Robb bowed his head in deference.

"You've got a good lad here Ned, and I don't say that just because you named him after me." The King chuckled "If only every boy who they gave my name to was so bold. Arryn's whelp will grow up a wet louse...if he grows up at all."

"From all I've heard, the boy is healthy enough." Ned said. He did not wish to disrespect his friend but would hardly allow his own nephew to be insulted in his presence "He is young, who knows what time will make of him yet."

"Time will ruin him as it does us all. Even the Kingslayer's not half as pretty as he used to be."

Ser Jaime's eyebrow twitched. _He doesn't like that nickname_ Ned realised. _He shouldn't have killed his King then._

"Your grace is too kind" he answered superciliously.

"I was insulting you Kingslayer." Robert dismissed "You, bastard! Tell me of your rangers."

Jon looked taken aback at being addressed directly by the King. Ned had watched him out of the corner of his eye all meeting. His bastard boy sat brooding and resentful.

He had stiffened when the King had named Rayder a cannibal. Jon respected the former King Beyond the Wall, Ned knew that despite all that Jon tried to hide and deny it. 

War was always harder when you respect your enemies.

Ned would have to speak to him about concealing this respect more readily. He didn't like Jon and Robert being in the same castle to begin with, Jon couldn't afford to show his displeasure.

"I have sent two of my best rangers your grace. A man named Grenn and Edd Tollet of House Tollet. They will track Rayder."

"You send two to find a man who has evaded whole armies. Who escaped your own brother's trap at Craster's Keep." Prince Joffrey sneered.

"With respect your grace, two rangers is better than an army for this mission." Jon said and Ned was glad he had forced himself to speak in a fairly polite tone "Rayder knows the landscape better than anyone, an army will be spotted from miles away. Two well trained rangers can sneak up on him unawares."

Ned took in the Crown Prince. He was nothing like Robert. Prince Joffrey was thin and angular with his mother's golden hair, green eyes and disdainful air.

_And this is the boy I am to consider as Arya's husband._

Robert would demand an answer soon, a positive answer but Ned could not give it yet. Little word of the Prince had reached the North, all Ned knew was that he liked to hunt...like Robert.

He could tell Robb and Jon had taken a dislike to the boy but that would be true of any southron prince that had been waited on hand and foot their whole lives.

_I can wait and watch the boy_ , Ned decided. The King would be at Winterfell for at over a moon. _I'll wait to make out this prince's character before I give up my last daughter._

"So your answer is to send two." The Kingslayer drawled "Why not send multiple small groups, approaching from routes?"

"The Night's Watch hasn't the men your grace." Ned interjected not wanting Jon any more attention to himself.

"It has more than two rangers." The King huffed.

"Yes but..." Jon started.

"Since Winter arrived, wildings have started to cross the Wall at a greater rate" Ned spoke over him, out of the corner of his eye he saw Jon tighten his fists on his armrests. Calm yourself boy, this is the King. "The rangers are needed to patrol the lands either side of Wall, to keep order in the Gift."

"If wildlings are invading again, we should send an army to cut them down." Prince Joffrey declared.

"These are not invaders your grace. Just small family groups that are looking for warmth in winter. Calling the banners would be using a trebuchet to swat a fly." Ned said.

"We could call a few men my lord." Robb suggested "These refugees are not completely harmless. Both the Umbers and the Karstarks have had raids on their lands."

"The Night's Watch can handle wildling refugees." Jon said.

"I know that," Robb chuckled good naturedly "I only thought you might want some help brother."

"We don't need..."

"The Night's Watch should not have to rely on the charity of the North." Ned interrupted. If he wasn't careful Jon was soon going to be talking of the Others to the King, and who knew how Robert would react to that after Stannis. He spoke to the King directly "Especially when we have little charity to give. The Watch protects the whole of the Seven Kingdoms and the other kingdoms must do their part."

"So this is a begging meeting, funny I thought we were here to discuss the safety of the realm." Robert growled.

"We are, it is the Night's Watch's duty to guard the Wall, to keep order in the Gift and they can't do that if they are poorly supplied."

"The Night's Watch has always been poorly supplied. Should I waste the realm's coffers, in the midst of winter with the Targaryen girl at our backs, on arming and feeding rapists and thieves?" Robert dismissed "Let the Watch be, hunt Rayder and if the wildlings invade once more we'll send an army to crush them."

Robb looked disappointed. Jon held his face still, clear of expression.

"If that is your wish your grace." Ned sighed with resignation. He recognised the tone of a final command.

"It is Ned, now enough of this." Robert declared standing up "I didn't become King to spend hours in a cold solar, lets eat and drink ourselves merry."

The rest of the men left with Robert to go to dinner. Jon hung back, pretending to look at the maps on the table.

Ned closed the door so they were alone. If Jon was to confront him again, he didn't want the servants to hear.

"So that's the King." Jon said with false calmness.

"Aye that's the King." Ned sighed and poured them both a drink "You did well not to show your frustration."

"I'm not a child. I know not to anger the King."

"I know. Leave Robert to me. He will be here for over a while yet. There is plenty of time for me to change his mind about the Night's Watch."

Jon hummed noncommittally.

"Is it certain that Rayder is on the Frozen Shore? It does not seem like a good place to settle for winter" Ned asked.

Jon shrugged "The information came from an old clan chief who knew Rayder during the war. He could be lying, that's why I only sent two men, but at least its a lead."

"I suppose so" Ned muttered and turned to Jon "I don't want to underestimate him. This is a man who united more than fifty warring wildling clans. For all we know he could be raising another army."

Jon shook his head "Even Rayder wouldn't war this far into winter, it would be suicide." He said and then asked "Do you think Daenerys Targaryen is really a threat?"

Ned shook his head "If she wanted Westeros she would have come for it by now. She has no allies in the Seven Kingdoms and more than enough ties and troubles in Slavers Bay. If I were her, I would stay there. The weather's warmer."

Jon chuckled. He lowered his eyes and started to trace imaginary designs on the map. Ned took another drink.

"Was my mother Lady Ashara Dayne?"

Ned choked on his mead and forced it down his throat painfully. He stared at Jon, almost unsure that the words had come out of his mouth. Jon stared back unflinching.

"You've been talking to the royal party." He said in a hoarse voice.

"You told me I should." Jon said simply "It seems everyone knew but me."

"Courtiers are nothing but sheep, you shouldn't listen to gossip." Ned replied in a hard voice.

"But its true isn't it?" Jon pressed accusingly "That's why you've been so ashamed all these years. You got Lady Dayne with child and killed her brother, so she took her own life."

Ned's jaw clenched. He did not want to have this conversation with Jon. He had always sworn he would never lie to the boy.

"No" He said through gritted teeth.

"'No' that she is not my mother or 'No' that you felt no shame?"

It was not his place to lie to the boy. Ned had sworn to protect him but he would not lie to him.

He had always planned to tell Jon the truth when he was older, the boy deserved the truth and it was not his place to withhold it. But when did a boy become a man?

When he began to grow hair on his face and understand the unfairness of life?

When he joined the Night's Watch and went beyond the realms of Kings?

When he was nineteen, experienced in war, First Ranger to the Night's Watch and sitting in front of Ned ready to treat with the Lord of the North?

No, not then. He was still just a little boy. He would always be Ned's little boy who climbed up into his lap with Robb, one boy on each knee, and asked for stories of Daemon the Young Dragon.

Ned swallowed uncomfortably "I did not lie with Lady Dayne."

"I don't believe you" Jon said automatically.

"That is your right."

Jon seemed annoyed at this answer "They said you danced with her at Harrenhal?" He said with frustration. Ned gave a little nod and his son spluttered "But you never dance."

"I never dance because of how I danced at Harrenhal." Ned explained "I looked like a fool, I must have broken several of Lady Ashara's toes, she was crying in pain by the end of it. I would certainly never wish to embarrass Lady Stark in such a manner."

Jon appeared to be chewing the inside of his cheek "It doesn't make sense" he muttered "They said...it answers so many..."

He trailed off.

"I liked Lady Ashara. She was kind and beautiful." Ned admitted quietly "But the truth is I barely knew her. We shared one sorry dance and nothing further. The rest is just talk."

Belief was sinking into Jon's face now and his expression looked so lost that it was as though he had taken him from his mother all over again.

"Tell me who my mother is" He asked is quiet pleading tones.

Ned looked away. He had sworn never to lie, to let people make their own assumptions. He had tarnished Ashara Dayne's reputation so that he might look Jon and Cat in the eye and know that he had never actually lied to them.

_Promise me Ned._

"Please, I have to know." Jon begged.

Ned took a great gulp of mead, savouring the bitter taste as it flowed down his clenched throat. "Wylla" he finally answered in a strangled voice "Her name was Wylla."

He forced the words to come out as they had done to Robert so long ago "Her father kept an inn on the River Honeywine."

Jon gave a great shuddering breath "And she died?"

Ned nodded "I came across her at the end of the war, on my way back North. She had just given birth, she died that day of childbed fever."

Jon was gripping the arm rests of his chair very tightly, he drank in every word Ned said.

"I knew as soon as I saw you that you were my blood." He reminisced, thinking of the tiny wrinkled bawling babe with dark hair and grey eyes. Jon had looked so like his mother, he still did.

"Was there any family? Do you know if I had any other brothers or sisters?" Jon asked.

Ned shook his head "No"

"Are you sure? What about the innkeep?" Jon pressed.

"He had died during the rebellion. I'm not sure who the inn went to. There was no-one else."

Jon visibly sagged in defeat. "You...you said it was dangerous for me to know?"

He had. He had been angry and Ned regretted letting that slip. "There was a man...a man she was betrothed to. He was dangerous, a thug really. I feared...still fear...what he would do if he came across you."

"But if he's a commoner, how could he be a threat?"

Right, Ned thought stupidly, Wylla was a commoner so her betrothed would be too.

"I never saw his face, he could be any man." Ned said, the lie sick in his mouth "I do know he was dangerous, that he had it in him to kill an innocent babe. Besides, your life is too precious to risk."

"Why was she be betrothed to such a man?"

"Her father forced her, she didn't really want it." _And her brothers encouraged the match because they foolishly thought a good friend would make a good husband._

"So that's...that's why you…" Jon implied awkwardly.

Ned felt sick "Enough of this, just promise you won't go to the Reach looking for trouble."

Jon nodded reluctantly "I couldn't, even if there was still family there. I'm sworn to the Wall" He said morosely.

Ned nodded and seized on the change of subject "And for that I am proud of you" He stood up "You brought honour to our house when you became First Ranger so young and one day you'll be Lord Commander. It's Stark blood that runs in your veins, the blood of the North. Think on that instead."

He crossed to the door, Jon stayed sitting at the table, his head hung low and his thoughts far from the Wall and the Night's Watch.

"Jon" Ned called quietly and the boy raised his head "The words that I have spoken do not leave this room, do you understand?"

Jon nodded obediently.

The last thing he needed was Robert hearing tales of an vengeful betrothed from whom Ned hid a bastard.

**Jon**

Jon sat in his father's solar for what seemed like hours. The light dimmed as candles burned lower, leaking wax onto the desk.

Eventually he got up and left the room in somewhat of a daze.

_He knew_ , he finally _knew_ who his mother was. After all these years his father had _finally_ told him.

And she wasn't noblewoman with an old name or a whore but an ordinary common woman his father had come across during war. _And she was dead._

There was no family left - it was over.

Was that why he felt so empty, because his mother was dead or because there was nothing left of her to discover? A life's quest finished with one fireside chat.

Unknowingly Jon found himself drifting towards the family quarters and became startled when he realised he was standing in front of Sansa's door.

He raised his hand to knock, but then his father's voice came back to him _'The words I have spoken do not leave this room'_.

To protect Lady Stark, it all came back to protecting Lady Stark he thought with annoyance.

No. He wanted to talk to Sansa for some strange reason, maybe because it was she who had told him of Ashara Dayne but he wanted to discuss it with her alone.

Lady Stark be damned, if there was anyone who would protect her sensibilities it would be Sansa.

Jon knocked.

The door opened "Hell...Oh Jon" Sansa looked absolutely startled to see him there "...Hi"

Jon flushed. She was wearing her nightclothes, she was perfectly covered, from neck to ankle, but it hadn’t occurred to Jon how inappropriate it might seem to visit his sister in her chambers at this late hour.

"I...I'm sorry...I'll...I'll go" Jon stuttered awkwardly.

"No...please don't" Sansa said in sweetly, her voice was melodic like a little bird. She clutched her robe together "It is not so late. Would...would you like to come in?"

Jon nodded, anything was better than standing stupidly in the corridor.

They retreated to her chambers and sat in front of the fire. Sansa pulled a bit of embroidery from nowhere and waited.

The fabric was pear green, long and thin like some kind of sash. Jon watched as she pulled golden thread back and forth to make the wings of a humming bird.

"That's pretty." He said. He saw such little beauty anymore, everything was white, grey and black. The illustration of Starfall had been beautiful in a majestic, haunting sort of way.

"Thank you" Sansa replied, she paused "Would you like to tell me why you knocked on my door?"

Jon grimaced "I couldn't just have wanted to see you?"

Sansa cocked her head to the side "Jon…" She said sympathetically.

They both knew that if he wanted to spend time with a sibling Jon would go to Robb or Arya, maybe Bran or at a push Rickon. But never Sansa. Jon didn't know whether to feel sad or regretful about that - it was just the way it had always been.

Except now he did want to be with Sansa.

"I found out who my mother was...father told me."

"Oh" Sansa in took a breath and waited expectantly.

"It...it wasn't Lady Dayne" Jon continued in what he hoped was a casual manner "Apparently she was an innkeep's daughter named Wylla."

He realised that that was the first time he had said her name out loud. _Wylla._ It didn't feel as significant as he thought it would.

"Oh Jon, I'm sorry, I should never have said anything." Sansa apologised. "Mother always told me not to repeat gossip and I…"

"Don’t be sorry" Jon held up his hand "Please... if it wasn't for you Father never would have told me. Thank you Sansa."

He gave her a weak smile but Sansa still look worried.

"How are you?" She asked and then tentatively questioned "Do you mind that she was... _lowborn_?"

"I always thought she was lowborn" Jon admitted and then chuckled as though in jest "Still it was interesting to think I might have been part of House Dayne for a day."

He had meant it to sound offhand but Sansa was now looking at him as though she was peering into his soul and could see how much he hated the fact that a small part of him was disappointed. Disappointed to be the get of a lowborn family instead of the great House Dayne.

He hated himself for being disappointed. _Be thankful she was not a whore_.

"It's stupid really." Jon muttered under his breath.

"No, its not. She's your mother, you can feel about her however you like." Sansa insisted earnestly "Besides I'm sure she was just as beautiful as Lady Ashara, I'm sure father would never love an ugly woman. I'm certain she was kind too."

A smile pricked Jon's lips "Thank you Sansa."

"Wylla's a noble name anyway. Lord Manderly's granddaughter is called Wylla."

"I hadn’t thought of that." Jon admitted "Though she wasn't from the North. Father said the inn where she lived was on the Honeywine River."

"Oh that's beautiful country." Sansa said wistfully "The waters are turquoise and there are little woods along the banks filled with lavender and bluebells."

Jon smiled at the image "That sounds nice."

Sansa nodded and then a bubble of short laughter burst from her "Oh my" she covered her mouth with her hand.

"What is it?" Jon asked amused at her discomposure.

"No...it's nothing." Sansa insisted, although Jon could see she was trying desperately to keep a straight face.

"Sansa" Jon pressed, trying not to chuckle himself at the ridiculous of it.

"It...it's only just that if you were born in the Reach, then you might have been called Jon Flowers" She answered trying not giggle and failing.

Jon clenched his jaw very hard, trying not to laugh. "Sansa...I swear to Gods if you tell Robb or Theon…"

But she was too far gone in giggling to pay attention to his mock warning and soon he found himself chuckling along with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your feedback so far, it's so lovely to read. Please let me know what you think of this chapter and the story so far (positive and negative criticism welcome)


	6. The woman from the Heather Stone hills

**Sansa**

"The gates of all seven hells have opened and the demons have run forth to pound on my head." Tyrion groaned when he joined Sansa for breakfast the next morning.

Shae poured him blackberry juice and Sansa prepared a plate of cold meats and cheeses for him.

"Otherwise known as my lord had too much to drink last night" Bronn quipped.

"I had as much as you did" Tyrion defended himself.

"Yes but you are considerably shorter than me."

"It's the dogs. The men are preparing them for the hunt." Sansa said, explaining the loud noises from outside that was causing her husband so much pain.

"I know it is the dogs" Tyrion said somewhat snappishly "Kitty close the shutters for heavens' sake."

Her maid did as she was bid and the chorus of barking was reduced to a muffled rumble. Kitty returned to her seat at the breakfast table. Since they had arrived at Winterfell Sansa found herself eating breakfast more with her husband's household than in the Great Hall. With the exception of the first day, she was never able to wake as early as the Starks and would find herself in the company of the Queen or the Crown Prince more often than not.

Tyrion was sour if he had been in his cups but at least he would never pinch her under the table top.

"It is too cold in here anyway." Tyrion complained. She wondered whether it was just the drink that had upset him or the memories awoken by the hunt.

_Is that why you warm yourself with wine each evening? What was your excuse in Kings Landing My Lord?_

"Forgive me my lord." Sansa said softly "I was expecting Blueberry back soon from her morning hunt."

"I have no doubt she will be more lucky than the King." He griped

"I hear they are going to the Wolfswood, and it teams with game." Shae said "Maybe your brothers will bring you back furs my lady."

"Where did you hear that, oh never mind, the Wolfswood is not teaming with game. At least not this winter." Tyrion replied.

Their marriage was proof that the North was not teaming with anything.

"It's going to be a large party, almost every man in the castle is said to be joining the King." Kitty said quietly. The others ignored her, they always ignored Kitty.

"Your father invited me to take part in the hunt." Tyrion told Sansa.

"That was kind of him."

Tyrion snorted and then said absent minded "Yes, I suppose it was. Coming from anyone else I would have taken it for a taunt but one can always count on Ned Stark to be sincere in his word."

 _But not in his marriage vows_ , Sansa thought suddenly, the memory of the secrets Jon had shared with her suddenly arose in her mind. She had not seen much of Jon since then, a fact that she somewhat regretted. She had dinner with Robb only a couple of nights ago and was strangely disappointed that Jon, sitting only two seats away, had all his attention focused on Rickon who was drowning him with questions about the War Beyond the Wall.

She found that she liked talking to her half brother, he was one of the few who did not look upon her with pity or hatred.

"I've decided to send Bronn instead."

"Bronn?" Sansa rose her eyebrows.

"Yes, some of the most important men in the realm will be roaming around a forest all day with nothing to do but talk. I would like to know what they are talking about." Tyrion said.

Sansa nodded and felt stupid for not understanding immediately.

"And what are you going to be doing all day, whilst I'm outside freezing my backside off?" Bronn asked.

"I thought I might visit the Library Tower, I spoke to Maester Luwin yesterday and he mentioned several books I am quite interested in."

"I borrowed a book on the Gift for you my Lord." Sansa said "I thought it might interest you. It is in my chambers, I could go fetch it for you."

Tyrion smiled indulgently "No, don't trouble yourself my lady. I shall read on the Gift later in this visit but for now I have other matters to attend to."

Tyrion had been studying economics and trading histories in preparation for their journey to the Free Cities. Sansa had known he would not be interested in her book on the Gift.

Once she had broken her fast, Sansa left the family quarters to go to the washerwomen and collect her silk. Their laundry was perched on top of the kitchens, next to the Bell Tower and she needed to cross the courtyard to reach it.

The yard was crowded with horses that grew restless as their pages tried to hold them steady, servants were loading saddle bags of food onto donkeys and carts and the kennel masters had brought out meat for the dogs to eat which had stopped their impatient barks. Lesser knights stood around talking, stringing their bows and sharpening their arrows as they waited for the King. Many held a gleam in their eyes and an excited tone in their chatter.

"Look at them, practically wet at the thought of sinking their steel into some weak little fawn." A voice growled dismissively behind her.

It was the Hound. "And yet you join them." Sansa replied with a small smile.

"I guard the prince." Sandor said "You should run along inside Little Bird, men's blood gets up when they're about to kill something."

_They won't kill anything, the Wolfswood is bare._

"This is my father's castle, I am safe here." Sansa said.

"Is that why you don't break your fast in the Great Hall." Sandor asked leaning towards her slightly. "The prince should know not to cause trouble between your father and his. But Joff was never a smart boy. We'll be here some sennights yet, it's winter and he's getting bored."

She unconsciously held her upper left arm where the old bruises had begun to fade. Only a practiced eye could see the concern laced in the Hound's hard eyes.

"It is not me you should be concerned about" She said quietly "There are others, the squires…"

"They need not worry unless they came to your aid in front of him." Sandor interrupted. She could tell he didn't believe what he was saying. Sansa was Joffrey's favourite but she was hardly his only plaything. What must it be like to be the Hound and disgusted by your own master's cruelty? "And then there is the King…"

"But then Joffrey was never a smart boy." Sansa said wryly and left him standing by Stranger.

She weaved through the Lannister horses, who were being dressed in red and gold caparisons and found Jon leaning against a wall watching the whole thing with an air of bemusement.

She smiled at him and wished him "Good Morning."

Jon bid her a good morning as well and then nodded to Ser Courtney Hasty, who stood a few feet from them and was fitting a headdress of large purple feathers onto his already elaborately decorated horse.

"Do you think he means to put little satin boots on it as well?" Jon whispered under his breath.

Sansa tried not to smile "I hardly think that would be practical."

Jon mocked consideration and then nodded "I suppose they delude themselves that those…"

"Caparisons" Sansa corrected.

"Caparisons." Jon conceded "They can pretend all that heraldic cloth is to warm the poor beasts in stead of showing off. I should have asked you for a caparison instead of a shirt."

Sansa smirked "I could have embroidered flowers onto it."

Jon gave her a light shove and she giggled.

"Are you looking forward to the hunt?"

"I would be if I thought we were actually going to hunt. At this rate I expect it will be just drinking, feasting and posturing. We'll be lucky to come back with a rabbit."

"You could always break off with Robb and go into the Wolfswood on your own. I'm sure father wouldn't mind as long as you paid your courtesies first." Sansa suggested.

Jon looked sorely tempted "I can't." He regretted "I'm supposed to be making friends of these southron knights, so that their houses will support the Watch."

"Oh well, there's no point talking with Ser Courtney then, he is kind but House Hasty is very poor. And you should avoid Lord Rosby as well." She pointed out a grizzled old man whose squire was filling a saddle bag with flasks of Arbor Gold "He's very miserly, he wouldn't pay for his own niece's dowry and the poor girl had to marry a guildsman."

Jon took this in thoughtfully "What about the Kettleblacks?" He asked after the brothers from the Vale that had come to court a few years ago "They have expensive armour at least, that speaks of wealth."

"I don't know" Sansa hesitated "My Aunt Lysa always used to speak of them as though they were little better than smallfolk but they do seem to have gold. I've heard rumours that they secretly partake in trade. You could always ask."

Jon nodded and then asked "Could I have dinner with you this evening? I'd like to speak with Lord Tyrion."

Sansa was taken aback by this request but not displeased. Only a few moments ago she had been wishing to speak with Jon once more - but Tyrion wouldn't be able to help him.

Jon seemed to sense her hesitance for he quickly added "I would never…embarrass you, I thought we could talk of his trip to Castle Black. You can tell me if I become too uncouth in…"

"No, I don't mind." Sansa said quickly, she didn't think good quiet Jon could be uncouth in anything, he probably begged more politely than a highborn widow "I would be glad if you joined us. I'm sure Tyrion will be entertained by new company."

It was agreed then that Jon would dine with them after the hunt and Sansa left for the laundry in better spirits.

The washerwomen Mistress Poole had employed had done a good job and the dye was smooth and held fast throughout the silk. Sansa returned to her chambers and laid the black silk down on the carpet, satisfied to see that there were no streaks.

Blueberry had returned in her absence and sat on the windowsill gutting a dead mole with her sharped curved beak whilst Sansa cut up silk using the measurements she had taken from Jon. When she had finished she took the pieces to Septa Mordane's rooms for sewing.

Princess Myrcella was taking lessons from Septa Mordane when Sansa slipped into the sewing circle. She sat next to a hunched scowling Arya, who was stabbing at her handkerchief as though it were a beast who had done her some terrible wrong.

"Your stiches are so neat your grace." Septa Mordane cooed, bending with admiration over the Princesses work "It is as though the colours flow into one another like a true rainbow."

Myrcella blushed and bowed her head "Thank you, but my stitches are not as small as Sansa's."

Sansa smiled at the pretty princess "You are too kind your grace."

"No truly, Sansa's stitches are so tiny it is though they are made by little mice." Myrcella earnestly told the rest of the ladies assembled. "You must be a very talented teacher Septa Mordane."

The septa's chest swelled up with so much pride so that she was several inches taller and she had gone faintly red "You are very gracious to say your grace."

"Indeed she is, but we have all noticed the fine quality of the needlework at Winterfell." Septa Eglantine, the princess's personal septa said "I only wish I had as much time to devote to it in the princess's studies. After teaching Valyrian, the high harp, singing, dancing and studying the Seven Pointed Star - not to mention all those other little necessities a Princess must have - I'm afraid there is little time to sew handkerchiefs."

Septa Mordane bristled and Sansa interjected before the proud woman could embarrass herself "Your grace plays and sings very well, will you perform while we are here at Winterfell. I wrote to my Lady Mother of your beautiful rendition of _Brave Danny Flint_ on Maiden's Day and I know she longs to hear it for herself."

Myrcella blushed until she was as the bright red of tomato "I had thought of putting on a play...only I'm not sure my father will have the time for such a thing. He has such important duties with Lord Stark and there is much hunting that can be done here."

"Nonsense, your father delights in your plays, as do we all" Septa Eglantine scoffed.

She spoke the truth, Myrcella's little performances - whether singing, dancing or acting- seemed to be one of the only things that gave Robert Baratheon pure joy any more.

"Which play would you choose?" Beth Cassel asked in an excited squeaking voice.

" _The Tale of Durran and Elenei_." Myrcella answered and the face of Rosamund Lannister, her lady in waiting and cousin fell.

"Could we not do the Dance of the Dragons?" she asked "It's much more exciting."

"But that is a Targaryen story Rosamund. It is hardly fitting for Winterfell." Myrcella replied sensibly.

Arya snorted "That doesn't matter. We'd rather watch Rhaenyra Targaryen battle her brother with dragons than some soppy love story."

"I like _The Tale of Durran and Elenei_ " Sansa said and ignored Arya as she rolled her eyes with open derision "It has fighting in it as well as romance."

"Not proper fighting, it's just weather. Dragons are better." Arya argued.

"I'm sure father would rather see a tale of the old Storm Kings than one of Targaryens." Sansa responded speaking firmly "Besides, any tale the Princess chooses to put on is certain to be a delight."

Sansa thought that that had drawn the matter to a close but after the sewing circle had finished and the other ladies were leaving the room Arya asked angrily "Why did you talk about father like that? You made him sound petty and stuck-up, as if he cares what type of play was put on."

Sansa looked at her sister pityingly "He might not, but King Robert would. He hates the Targaryens for what they did to Aunt Lyanna and he would cast ire on poor Princess Myrcella for daring to invoke their name in Aunt Lyanna's family seat."

"Well then why didn't you say that? You shouldn't have insulted father."

"It wasn't insulting him to suggest that he may not be pleased at the thought of the House that killed our grandfather and uncle. And I am not going to gossip about the King in front of his own daughter and servants" Sansa sighed, exasperated as she tried to explain.

Arya breathed angry little puffs through her nose and looked at her through narrow eyes. She remained silent though which meant that she knew Sansa was right but was loath to admit it.

Sansa felt a touch of regret at the state of affairs between them, they had scare had a polite conversation since she had returned and it was not Arya's fault that she was so ignorant in court behaviour. "Would you like me to fix that for you?" She asked referencing the dreadful ratty handkerchief Arya had been working on. In an effort to make amends she thought she might be able to make the wolf look more like a wolf and less like a grey cabbage. "The stem stitches are all crooked."

She winced as Arya's face darkened and she realised how her words had sounded.

"No thank you." Arya said coolly "I like that they're crooked. It shows that like Princess Myrcella, I have better things to do than sitting around all day knitting."

She stormed off and Sansa had to bite her tongue so she did not yell out that sewing was not the same as knitting.

Sansa returned her sewing to her chambers where a few letters lay still unanswered and then journeyed to the edge of the Godswood where each day Osha would take her little brother and the wildling prince to play.

She had watched them these past few days. Every afternoon Osha took Hosten to spend an hour with Lady Stark and then took Dallan to the kitchens where the scullery maids fed him sweets and Osha flirted with Gage the cook. With the exception of Gage and a couple of the washerwomen, she steered clear of most of the servants and spent the majority of her time with the boys. Of the King's party, she had only seen her speak to one of the singers and that appeared to be a fairly superficial conversation.

Sansa watched now as she bent down in the snow and helped the little boys pile snow into a tower. She had made a little fire to keep them warm, Sansa didn't think she'd ever seen a servant make a fire in the Godswood before. They would be far too terrified of burning the whole thing down.

The snow crunched under Sansa's feet as she approached. Osha stood and delivered a poor courtesy "M'lady, are you here for your brother?" There was a hardness in her eye that showed that she knew Sansa had been watching her and wished she would go away as quickly as possible.

"No, I'm just taking a walk." Sansa said coolly "And it's _my laydee_ not _me lahdee_."

The gleam of irritation sparkled "Forgive me _my laydee_." Osha said with an over exaggerated air "I am only a poor girl from the Gift."

She was no girl, she was a woman. Runcun one of her father's archers had grown up on the Bay of Ice shoreline in the Gift. Sansa had spoken to him yesterday and he did not make his 'ays' into 'ahs' the way Osha did, neither did Gladnys the gardener who had grown up near Queenscrown.

"Yes I heard. My husband will be travelling through the Gift to the Wall soon. Maybe he will pass through your village. Where did you come from?"

"No village m'lady, my family and I lived in the Heather Stone hills, we kept sheep."

"And my brother Jon visited you there and asked you to be a wet nurse for the wildling prince?" Sansa asked.

"No m'lady. I brought wool to trade in Molestown and heard that a wildling prince had been brought to Castle Black and was in need of a wet nurse." Osha said. "I went to Castle Black to give the boy some milk."

The boys had piled too much snow on top of their tower and it crumbled under the weight. Dallan started to bash the rubble with his little fists, sending flecks of ice in Hosten's face. Hosten merely giggled and started to punch the snowy mess too.

Sansa smiled serenely "And how lucky we were that you did."

She could feel Osha's suspicious glare on her back as she left the Godswood.

**Jon**

Sansa had ordered them a good dinner when Jon arrived to eat with her and Tyrion that evening. After missing the welcome feast and dining in his room most nights, he had missed the gluttony of expensive food that precedent dictated must accompany a king on his travels.

The table was laid with venison, pigeon pie, parsnip stew and there was a bottle Dornish Red that Tyrion himself had brought from Kings Landing. Jon hadn't eaten so well since before the Great Floods.

"How was the hunt?" Tyrion asked as they dug into their food.

"It...went as well as could be expected." Jon answered trying to be diplomatic.

Tyrion gave a half smile "I heard the King was very disappointed with the poor haul. Apparently he intends to go out again tomorrow."

"I doubt he'll have much more luck tomorrow." Jon grumbled, the whole parade had been a mummer's farce. With scores of men, horses, dogs crashing through the undergrowth accompanied by horns and even singing, he would have been surprised if there was one animal in the Wolfswood that hadn't heard them.

His goodbrother seemed to read his thoughts "A different kind of hunting to what a ranger of the Nights Watch is used to I expect." He smirked "You hunt for survival north of the Wall, not sport and I'll wager you're a damn sight more successful?"

"I could not say my lord" Jon replied and then added "You could join us tomorrow, you could have a nice peaceful ride through the Wolfswood."

Tyrion sniggered and drank some wine "Thank you but I rarely go on hunts. I am an exceptionally poor horseman."

"You are better than me." Sansa said. It was only the third time she had spoken since they had sat down to the table. Jon was beginning to enjoy Tyrion's company, the dwarf was sharp, funny and surprisingly respectful to a bastard. But he was disappointed by how quiet and almost shy Sansa was in her husband's company.

"I wouldn't say that, only that we are both quite dire" Tyrion commented "We are lucky we are rich enough to keep a wheelhouse."

After the reference to hunting beyond the Wall Jon wondered if he had missed his chance to talk about the Watch, for then Tyrion started talking about their journey from Kings Landing. He talked about how their wheelhouse had gotten stuck in the swamps at the Neck and how one of their horses had become lame in the Reach and they had to have it killed.

Jon struggled to think of a way to bring up the Watch without it sounding crass. He wasn't made for this, he was a bastard who had never had to talk much let alone ask things of rich lords before. It struck him that Sam or even Ser Alliser Thorne would have been better placed at this dinner. He was just wondering whether to wait until Tyrion came to Castle Black himself when he spotted a potential opening.

Tyrion had been talking about the families they had met on their journey, drinking more as he did so "... the Flints are an odd people, but even so I like them better than the Freys of the Twins. I always thought that my uncle and cousins were a sorry example of mankind but that was until I met the rest of the house. Walder Frey is a mean dirty old man and the rest of his brood are little better, wouldn't you agree Sansa?"

Sansa nodded but she said "I liked Lady Roslin and Lady Marissa, they've both promised to write to me."

"Of course they have" Tyrion said "But take care that the topic never drifts to marriage or before you know if the Late Lord Frey will have all your brothers betrothed to girls from the Twins."

Sansa wrinkled her nose in mild disgust.

"Take my advice Jon Snow. If any Freys come to the Wall, looking to take the black, send them right back where they came from." Tyrion warned "They're a dreary lowborn people."

Jon struggled not to raise his eyebrows at this sweeping insult.

"I can't say that we would have much choice in the matter my lord." Jon said "The Wall is sorely undermanned, we need every pair of boots we can get."

"Surely the Lord of the North does not let the valiant heroes of the Nights Watch go without?" Tyrion asked and Jon couldn't be sure if he was mocking him or not.

"My father has given much to the Watch but he is not the richest man in Westeros." Jon said "Your father on the other hand..."

"Ah" Tyrion smiled and took another sip of wine "If you were going to ask for gold you should have waited till I arrived at Castle Black. It would have been difficult to say no with two hundred swords at my neck."

"We don't have two hundred swords, we probably don't have enough food to last the Winter." Jon replied honestly for if he was going to beg then he wouldn't play games and pretend that he wasn't "All you'll feel at Castle Black is pity, I'd rather ask now when you still hold some measure of respect for the Nights Watch."

"It's that bad is it?" Tyrion asked now sounding more serious.

"Worse" Jon replied "We can't defend the realm with the men and resources we have now."

"From grumkins and snarks you mean?" Tyrion questioned "Mance Rayder won't raise another army in winter, it would be a fool's ploy."

"There's worse out there than grumkins, snarks and Mance." Jon said and squashed down the irritation he felt at Tyrion's expression. The dwarf clearly didn't believe him, neither did Sansa for that matter but she looked at least interested "The Westerlands are in the Realm, just as the North. You've every bit the same need of protection."

"I'm sure." Tyrion smiled indulgently as though he were an uncle whose infant nephew had one day just told him he would grow up to be a kraken. "But unfortunately I cannot help you. I am a lowly second son and as such have no gold to give you."

"You may be a second son but your are also your father's heir" Jon couldn't help but point out. "You've enough to keep a wheelhouse"

"Yes but I don't pay for it!" Tyrion exclaimed chuckling.

"What?" Jon frowned.

"Come Jon Snow, you were brought up with a noble family, you know how it works." Tyrion drawled "The bills pile up and up and get left unpaid because what merchant or servant would dare make accusations against a highborn."

"So you just...don't pay...for anything?" Jon choked.

"Well I don't" Tyrion clarified "But once in a while my father will remember that a Lannister always pays his debts and wipe the slate near enough clean. But only when the economy permits it, I believe there are bills in his solar ten years old that are waiting for the spice trade take a downward turn before they get paid."

"And all nobles do this?" He asked with disgust.

"Some" Tyrion shrugged "Less so in the Vale, they have more honour there."

Jon looked at Sansa waiting for her to contradict her husband but she merely nodded in agreement. She seemed less relaxed about it than Tyrion though. He knew the cruelty of highborns but he had never thought of them as good as thieves before. Their own father would never behave in such a way.

But then their own father could not feed the North let alone the Nights Watch. It was why he had had to send Sansa to Casterly Rock.

"But could you perhaps speak to your father?" Jon asked "Tell him of the need of the Nights Watch..."

He stopped mid sentence because Tyrion had started to chuckle.

"Sansa sweetling, how much influence do I have over my father?" He asked with an edge of bitterness.

Sansa swallowed and looked uncomfortable "None my lord."

"But..."

"My father funds my lifestyle to maintain the image of the Lannisters." Tyrion told him firmly "But he will not send gold and men to another man's army. He is even less likely to if I am the one to try and convince him."

"We're not an army" Jon objected.

"You have commanders, garrisons, steel and men in uniform. You are an army." Tyrion dismissed.

Jon made to speak again but saw it was hopeless. He sat back in his chair and sighed "So you cannot help me?"

"Well I can't." Tyrion said "But Sansa might be able to."

"Me?" Sansa squeaked in surprise. Jon was somewhat taken aback by the suggestion.

"Yes my dear. You have all those friends, surely some of them could persuade their fathers or brothers to aid the Nights Watch."

All of a sudden Jon realised he was right. He remembered the stack of letters Maester Luwin had given her, Sansa had to be in contact with twenty or thirty houses at least.

"But most of them are from very minor houses" Sansa protested "Lady Jeyne Westerling is the granddaughter of a merchant and Darna Longwaters is betrothed to a hedge knight. They wouldn't be able to give much."

"That doesn't matter." Jon said "Any little will help, it all adds up as Maester Luwin used to say."

"I'll help you with the wording." Tyrion advised "We'll make it seem as though you are merely reminding them of their duty rather than begging."

Jon shot Tyrion an irritated look even though it was really begging.

Sansa had bitten her bottom pink lip, she looked very flustered and unsure, as though this couldn't possibly work.

"I could...try" she eventually said.

"I'd truly be grateful for any help you could give Sansa." Jon said.

"You might get some silver from Agata Crakehall. She's very nice and she's a little...her father is very fond of her." She admitted.

"He indulges her lunacy you mean." Tyrion corrected with a smile and poured some more wine "Tell him about the Feast of the Jeynes. I always enjoy that story."

Sansa's face became very fixed as though she was trying not to laugh "Lady Agata held a feast for her thirtieth name day where she only invited guests named Jeyne."

Jon laughed and Tyrion joined him "You're joking."

Sansa shook her head, failing to contain her smile "There were thirty Jeynes for thirty name days." She said smiling, she had a very pretty smile "Jeyne Westerling and Jeyne Farman both wrote to me of it. Apparently Lady Agata had a very good time, she spent the night walking around the hall saying 'hello Jeyne' and 'how do you do Jeyne?'"

Jon sniggered.

"I enjoy Lady Crakehall." Tyrion declared "She's a delightful nutcase."

They spent the rest of dinner talking of the ladies of Sansa's acquaintance and other southern eccentrics that Tyrion knew. His sister became more confident as she talked of matters that she had more knowledge on. Jon noticed that, every now and then that Tyrion would draw her back into the conversation if she ever showed signs of retreating into her shyness again.

Between them, Sansa and Tyrion came up with a list of houses that she might approach and Jon felt more hopeful than he had done since arriving at Winterfell. He felt a happy ease come over him and he wasn't sure if it was the company, conversation or copious quantities of Dornish Red that Tyrion kept pouring them.

"There, I have put you in my debt without handing over a penny." Tyrion exclaimed triumphantly on noticing Jon's pleased expression. "Somewhere my father is trying to stop himself from being proud."

Sansa gave a small smile.

"I expect to be well looked after as a result when we reach Castle Black, Snow."

"After all you've heard, are you sure you still wish to come?"

"Of course, why would I not?" Tyrion exclaimed happily "I long to meet the other fearless men of the Night's Watch and see the wintery abode of the Others. I want to stand on top of the greatest structure ever built and piss off the end of it."

" _My lord_ " Sansa gasped.

"Oh come now there can be no offence little wife." Tyrion said slurping even more wine "You are my wife and I am sure young Jon Snow has heard worst words at the Wall. So you see there is no impropriety."

"You forget Shae my lord." Sansa reminded him, speaking of her maid who stood silently against the back wall, waiting to clear the plates. "You should not speak like that in front of her."

"Ah, of course." Tyrion said looking down and wearing a hint of a smirk "My apologies Shae."

Shae looked as though she too was struggling not to laugh.

"Knowledge is my sword Jon Snow and books and travel are my whetstone." Tyrion announced, he seemed to want to sound serious but his words were slurred and he was fighting a grin "The King has his hunts, Sansa has her needlework and I have my learning. What do you have Jon Snow?"

"I'd settle for just getting out of tomorrow's hunt my lord."

"You could claim sickness." Sansa suggested.

Jon shook his head "Robb would not wear it." He had avoided his brother too much this visit already. "Perhaps I'll get lucky and someone will shoot me with a stray arrow early on."

He thought it was an obvious joke but the atmosphere in the room grew abruptly cold. Tyrion's grin fell and he became stony faced. Sansa was suddenly very interested in the tablecloth seems and even the maid, Shae, shuffled uncomfortably by the wall.

"Yes quite" Tyrion said shortly after a while "We shall all pray for the puncturing of your lung by steel."

"No...I..."Jon floundered weakly. He'd been trying to jest, to have a good time. "What I meant was..."

"A joke, yes, I know." Tyrion said with a strained smile "Well its getting late, time for bed I think"

And with that the dwarf hopped off his chair and left the room bidding them good evening. Shae cleared the table, shooting Jon dirty looks as she did so. After she had left, Jon looked at Sansa for an explanation.

"Tyrion's squire was killed in a hunting accident shortly before we left Kings Landing." She eventually said in a quiet doleful voice.

"Oh shit." Jon groaned and his head fell back, his eyes closed in mortification. He felt wretched. "I should apologise." He stood up.

"There is no need, Tyrion knows you did not mean to be cruel." Sansa said, she crossed to a chair by the fire and pulled out some embroidery. There was a melancholy look in her eye that she too had been touched by the death of the squire.

"I'm so sorry." Jon said.

"Podrick was such a sweet boy." She spoke in a haunting melodic voice as though she were not really talking to him at all "You so very rarely meet any wholly innocent people and he was...It is just a waste, that is all."

"I understand" Jon said softly. He stood awkwardly by the door wondering if he should leave. His arms felt heavy like iron hammers that fell by his waist.

"Oh, you don't have to go." Sansa said noticing his uncertainty "It is still early...we could talk for a while... if you like?" She asked hopefully.

"Aye" Jon smiled and he sat opposite her beside the fire. He watched her sew for a few minutes, it was peaceful….rhythmic. She was stitching a ripped seam in a small burgundy leather doublet that must have belonged to her husband or one of the boys.

"How do you know so many people in the South?" He asked her breaking the silence "Did you meet all these ladies in Kings Landing?"

"Some" Sansa shrugged not taking her eyes from her work "Some, I met when we lived at Casterly Rock and most of the Reach ladies I became acquainted with when we travelled along the Roseroad to Kings Landing. There are a few that I have never met, they are the wives and daughters of men who dined with my goodfather or Uncle Jon and we were introduced by raven."

"And you keep in touch with all of them by raven?" Jon asked, somewhat impressed at all the time and energy she could devote to writing to ladies she barely knew or had never even met.

"It is nice to hear of other parts of the Seven Kingdoms and there is so little to do in the Red Keep." Sansa said, she had said this before and it suddenly struck Jon that his half sister was probably very lonely "I know Tyrion was jesting earlier, but you must do something for fun?"

Jon smiled "Truly I have no time. As I said we have few men at the Wall, when I am not ranging I help with the builders and stewards all day until my limbs ache with sleep. Then I go to bed and wake up and do it all over again."

Sansa's mouth twitched into an almost smile "I should very much like to see you doing steward's duties. The next time I am upset I shall picture you making a bed or baking a cake."

Jon laughed "I'm afraid there's not much call for cakes at Castle Black but I can skin a hare and chop a turnip as good as any."

Sansa did not reply but her eyes shone with amusement.

"What were you doing on the Roseroad, I thought the Goldroad led to Kings Landing from Casterly Rock?" Jon asked. He had never paid much attention to the South in lessons with Maester Luwin, it had never interested him much when he had always seen his future as north of Winterfell.

"Tyrion wanted to see the Starry Sept and the Citadel so we took a ship to Oldtown." Sansa explained "I didn't care much for the Citadel, there were more books there than trees in the Wolfswood but it was very dusty and the Maesters do not like women so they were very rude to me and my maids. The Starry Sept was beautiful though, it has black marble walls painted with all the star constellations in gold. There are beautiful white ivory statues of the Gods as well as septons and septas everywhere and there is always a choir of young boys singing these heart breaking hymns bathed in candlelight."

She spoke with such contentment that Jon was half tempted to go to the place himself even though he held no faith with the Seven. _Wylla_ was from the Reach though and Lord Stark said she birthed him on the River Honeywine which flowed into that great city of Oldtown.

"Tell me about the city." He asked.

And so Sansa told him of cobbled streets, white washed houses and the great High Tower that stretched up to the clouds casting a shadow over the shimmering green blue water of the Sunset Sea.

"It is much lovelier and cleaner than Kings Landing and the Hightowers are such elegant people, strange but with true honour...I wish we could have stayed there longer."

Then she told him about travelling up the Roseroad to Highgarden through fields of golden roses, barley and wheat. Where they would stop to buy honey from farms that kept hives and would wait for hours behind herds of fat black and white cows that were being driven to market.

For Jon, who has spent the last five years in bitter coldness, fighting, building and digging for mushrooms in the snow just to find something to eat, it is somewhere between a sweet dream and torture to hear of the bountiful Reach in all its glory.

He wondered briefly what life would have been like if his father had left him there, to grow up as a farmer or smith perhaps? Among the plum trees and honey hives.

"And Highgarden has all these little fountains and hedge mazes that the children play in. Every now and then you would turn a corner and find a harper playing underneath a peach tree just in case a guest might pass by." Sansa said "We stayed there over two moons but that was partly so we could attend Ser Garlan's wedding."

Jon smiled and asked "And what was the wedding like?"

Sansa looked at him suspiciously as though he were humouring her. To be fair he partly was but he also liked how happily she spoke about the Reach compared to the melancholy whenever she talked of Casterly Rock or Kings Landing.

"It wasn't _too_ over the top, Ser Garlan is only the second son after all." Sansa hedged as though she was afraid he would make fun of her "The festivities lasted three days and the Tyrells made sure there was always entertainment and activities for their guests. Lady Leonette looked very pretty in her bride's cloak and they had a fire plum cake over fifteen feet high that was iced pale green with golden roses and emerald apples on each tier."

Jon tried not to smirk very hard but was hopelessly unsuccessful.

"It was a bit much." Sansa conceded and her mouth twitched as though she too was trying not to smile "I think father would have cried if he had seen it." Jon chuckled "Even Flora Tarly said so and she spends so much gold that her father once locked her up for three moons and had her sweep the floors until she promised never to borrow money in his name again."

Jon grinned "You met the Tarlys?"

"Yes, lots of Reach families were there; House Tarly, House Fosseway, House Florent, House Ambrose, House Crane...Oh but you must know Samwell Tarly!" She cried.

"Aye I know him" Jon nodded "He's my best friend."

Sansa beamed "But that's wonderful, I'll have something to tell Lady Talla and Lady Flora the next time I write to them. You must tell me lots of stories about him, they never hear from him now he is a brother of the Night's Watch."

"We aren't really allowed to write personal letters at the Wall." Jon explained. They had no families but each other as brothers of the Night's Watch and letters from kin would breed resentment amongst those that could not read or write.

"Then you must tell me of him now."

"Well…there's not really much to say." Jon struggled to think what the ladies of Horn Hill would want to hear "He's kind, decent...he reads a lot. He's a steward and he helps Maester Aemon with his work and the ravens. He's probably the most knowledgeable person I know, after Maester Aemon of course."

"That's very nice…" Sansa hesitated "But don't you have any stories more...heroic? Did he fight in the Battle of Castle Black?"

Jon shook his head "He wasn't there. Sam doesn't do much heroics, he likes to think himself craven."

Sansa looked disappointed.

"He killed an Other once with dragonglass."

"Jon...I can't tell them that" Sansa cocked her head in pity "Talla will repeat it like the Seven Pointed Star and everyone will laugh at her."

_Aye, I suppose they would._

Jon scratched his throat in thought "He killed a cave dweller" he eventually settled on "During the Great Ranging, we were set upon by a clan and Sam fought them off the same as the rest of us."

"What's a cave dweller? Is it a type of wildling?" 

Jon nodded.

"They live underground in the caverns underneath the Frostfangs. They're very pale, whiter than you even. To scare their enemies they paint their faces blue, green and purple and sharpen their teeth to little points using blackrock."

His half-sister shuddered in disquiet but she was not horrified like the Sansa of his youth would have been.

"Some say they're the fiercest of the wildlings." Jon said and Sansa looked pleased. He thought with satisfaction of the raven headed to Horn Hill that would tell Randyl Tarly which of the men of his House was truly brave.

"What other types of wildling are there?" Sansa asked interested.

"There are the Thenns, they're the most like us. They have laws and forge bronze to make weapons. Then there are the men of the Frozen shore who ride sleighs made of walrus bone pulled by direwolves, the Ice-river clans and Nightrunners. There are the Hornfoots who don't where shoes and the Gorgethralls - some of my brothers fought them at the Bridge of Skulls - they shave their heads and tattoo blue woad onto their skulls. And then of course there are the giants…"

"Do they truly exist?" Sansa asked, sounding both timid and sceptical "Some of the men that came back to Kings Landing talked of giants but I could barely believe them."

"The giants are real enough." Jon nodded "I don't know much about them, they're shy if you can believe it and they don't speak the Common Tongue. They live in the very north, beyond the Mountains of Thenn and near the Lands of Always Winter."

"Do the other wildlings speak the Common Tongue?"

"Some of them, the ones in the far north, like the Thenn and Nightrunners mostly speak the Old Tongue although some of the Thenn leaders can understand us. Most wildlings south of the Antler River can speak the Common Tongue."

"Like Osha?"

"Aye like…" He snapped his head up and Sansa continued stitching innocently. "What did you say?" he asked hoarsely.

"Like Osha. She's a wildling isn't she?" Sansa enquired as though she was asking a very banal, innocent question "But she speaks our language very well, so she must be from south of the Antler River."

"Osha is from the Gift." Jon said firmly, he felt his breath pushing upwards in his chest.

Sansa narrowed her eyes "Where in the Gift?"

The book hadn't been for the Imp.

"The hills near Heather Stones, her family lived there alone herding sheep." Jon repeated automatically.

"That is what Osha said" Sansa replied calmly and returned to her sewing and Jon felt his heart calm, but then..."She also said that you allowed her to be a wet nurse to the wildling prince." That was no secret, Jon thought angrily, he had brought both of them to Winterfell himself "But Mother said the wildling prince was born at the Skirling Pass beyond the Wall, which means either...you carried a newborn south for several days with no mother's milk; or...you had a wet nurse and then discarded her for shepherd's daughter you did not know, one who may have suffered from wildling raids in the Gift; or...you and Osha are lying."

"Sansa…" Jon swallowed air, his throat suddenly felt very dry.

She looked up at him through lidded eyes "You are very lucky, there are only two servants here that I can find that are truly from the Gift. If she was taken before an Umber or Norrey they would have spotted her false accent quickly. Winterfell servants are uncommonly loyal and Mother and Father have gotten into the habit of trusting too easily. If you had brought her to any other house, the story would have been torn apart in days."

"She's just a woman." Jon said hoarsely. Had she already told Lady Stark, was she planning to tell father? "I couldn't let the babe die and she could nurse it. Osha just happened to be born on the wrong side of the Wall. All she wants is food and a warm roof over her head, she means no harm."

Sansa paused and looked into the fire lost in thought. Slowly she nodded and Jon, unaware that he had clenched so much, felt himself sag with relief.

"I think...I think that if she had of meant harm she would have already done something." She said biting her lip "And she can't be a spy, or at least not a very good one. I've watched her and she spends all her time with the babies. I saw her talk with one of the singers yesterday but it's not as if she'll get much knowledge of trade routes or defence plans from him, maybe she's just taken a liking to him…"

Jon didn't know whether to laugh or be tear at his hear in anxiety.

"I would _never_ do anything that would put our family or Winterfell in danger Sansa. You know that." He said forcefully, staring straight into her azure blue eyes, willing her to believe him. _I betray our Lord father and Robb_ he thought twistedly _but that is too keep everyone safe, including you sweet girl._

"I do" Sansa said simply. Jon felt that old feeling of guilt crawling up from inside him and burrowing in his throat. Half of him hoped she didn't believe him, that she could see the lies that poisoned his blood.

"Please, can you not tell anyone?" Jon asked "Father won't let a wildling stay at Winterfell and those boys are safest with her. She's a spearwife, she can protect them and she loves them."

Sansa paused again in thought before she said "Osha sleeps in the nursery with the boys doesn't she?"

Jon shrugged, not really sure "Probably, there's a little alcove where Old Nan used to sleep when she was in charge of the nursery."

"Hmm…" Sansa said "I think my maids sleep on the other side of that wall."

**Arya**

The training yard was silent and dark. A light snowfall had come earlier dusting over the churned up dirty ice sludge of the yard with a soft pure white blanket that shone ethereally in the full moon.

The night air was broken by a _whoosh_ as an arrow that sailed through the air and punctured the bulls eye of the target. Arya stomped over to wrench it out taking no pleasure in the fact that not even Theon could have made such a shot from that distance in the dark. What did it matter if she was good at arrows? She wasn't allowed to compete in the tourney, she wasn't even allowed to go on the hunt.

Chatter and the merry sounds of feasting wafted towards her on the breeze. Arya would steel something form the kitchens later. If she entered the feast her mother would scold her for the dirty state of her hemline, Robb and Theon would laugh and her little brothers...well Bran and Rickon were just babies, it wasn't their fault but they just didn't understand.

How was it fair that Bran got to go on the hunt, he was two years younger than her and worse with a bow. They were lucky he hadn't killed anyone she thought petulantly.

Her father would just smile sadly and say that was the way of it. Whenever she complained he said she should spend time with Sansa, make the most of their time together after five years apart.

It was not that she hadn't missed Sansa but the thought of listening to her beautiful, perfect sister instruct her on how to be a lady made her want to throw up. Let mother spend time with her favourite daughter, Arya thought savagely, she's missed her enough.

Sometimes Arya was certain that Tywin Lannister must have requested Sansa in particular for his dwarf son, maybe because she was older or he had heard of her beauty. Arya sometimes thought that if he had given her parents a choice they would have sent Arya away to marry the dwarf.

Sansa was meant for princes and kings, Arya would be married off to some backward son of some Northern Lord, far away enough that she would no longer cause her family so much embarrassment.

She pulled the bow string back further than it had every gone before and let go. _Whoosh_ \- the arrow cut through the air at a terrifying speed and punched into the target.

Arya felt a sting in the joints of her fingers and saw that the skin had broken from her efforts. She should have worn gloves.

Wiping the blood on her dress she angrily, she once again stomped back to the target to retrieve the arrow.

Jon was the worst. He was dining with Sansa tonight, she had heard from the flowery Beth Cassel who had been forced on her as a ladies maid.

Jon had spent all his time since returning doing business with their father or buttering up southron knights. The only person at Winterfell who had ever seemed to understand her had chosen to spend the evening with the sister he hated and her snotty dwarf husband rather than the sister he had claimed to miss. He had promised to spar with her.

It was a promise he kept breaking.

Arya clenched her jaw painfully, she aimed her arrow at the target and let loose.

 _Whoosh!_ Another bullseye.

_Clap. Clap._

Arya spun around and was startled to see another had come upon her. He was leaning against a wooden post, giving her a shitty smirk as he clapped condescendingly.

"What do you want?" Arya snapped at the prince.

Joffrey curled a lip on his annoyingly aristocratic face "Just watching the famed she-wolf of House Stark" he drawled, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Arya flinched, he was lying she thought acidly. She wasn't famed.

"You are extremely disappointing. I expected better - a warrior maiden from your reputation and instead just little boy in a dress playing…"

"I don't have a reputation." Arya cut across him angrily and stomped off to yank her arrow out of the canvas target.

Joffrey raised a blond eyebrow, his golden curls made him look like a girl but he was lean and broad shouldered with the body of a young man. His rich clothes were more elaborately embroidered than Sansa. Beth Cassel would have swooned.

 _I will not swoon,_ Arya thought, _I agree with Theon - the prince is a little shit._

"They say you are a better archer than your brothers but at least they can aim at a moving target."

"I can strike a moving target." Arya knocked her arrow and pulled back the string aiming it at Joffrey "Would you like to start running and I'll show you?"

In her head she could hear her mother and Sansa shouting at her for threatening a prince. This prince merely smirked.

"I am the Prince of Dragonstone, I cannot be killed with a savage's tool" he dared in a mocking voice "I don't suppose you've heard of crossbows in this gods forsaken backwater."

"Crossbows take too long to load" Arya snapped, she lowered her bow and arrow "They're a cowards weapon, you can't use them in chase or combat."

"Maybe you can't. I shall on the hunt tomorrow" The prince boasted "I have had a new one made, it can be reloaded in less than 6 seconds."

Arya didn't know if she believed him but she was sorely tempted to ask to see such a thing.

"If you were half the archer I'd been told I would have invited you along."

A pang of longing crashed into Arya which was quickly infused by deep suspicion.

"Girls don't go on hunts. They aren’t allowed."

"Maybe in the North. My father takes his whores all the time."

Had she been any other girl Arya would have wondered if the prince wanted to maker her his mistress but Arya knew she was too ugly and too young to even consider the possibility.

"Who's been telling you these things about me? Was it Sansa?" She demanded.

Joffrey snorted "As if a word of sense ever passed from her lips."

Arya made a sound that was half snort, half giggle before she could stop herself. Mortified she slapped her hand over her mouth.

The prince's eyes gleamed with laughter and her anger and embarrassment grew.

"I bet I'm still a better archer than you." she accused.

"I'm a prince. My father was the greatest warrior that ever lived before he got fat and drunk. I've been taught by the finest Masters at Arms in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms." He sneered in a tone as if she were stupid.

"That still doesn't prove you're not shit with a bow" Arya challenged with a smirk.

Joffrey cocked an eyebrow and his mouth curved upwards "Fine. I'll show you." and he grabbed a bow and quiver full of arrows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think so far? All criticism (both positive and negative) is welcome.


	7. Lies, truths and Arbor Gold

**Jon**

_"She knows." Osha whispered in the deathly silence._

_Jon nodded gravely._

_"I knew it" the wildling woman hissed "She's been lurking around, sticking her pretty little nose in and playing games..."_

_"Sansa doesn't play games" Jon whispered back, glancing out of the nursery window where the hunting party was assembling._

_"Spying on her own servants seems like a game to me." Osha said with a raised eyebrow "How can you be so sure she won't go to Lord or Lady Stark?"_

_"I just...she won't" Jon forced the words out "I've told her you mean no harm, that you are just looking for honest work. Sansa is not cruel."_

_"That's all very well Lord Crow but you forget that to her, and everyone else in this castle, I'm the enemy."_

Jon swallowed uncomfortably, his insides lurching back and forth as he rocked in the saddle. He chanced a glance behind where knights and squires followed through the overgrown trees of the Wolfswood, talking and making merry. The distant spectre of Winterfell had faded from view as they sunk deeper and deeper into the forest leaving behind Sansa and Osha, alone in the castle.

Sansa had sworn she didn't care for some wildling woman but would he come back to the castle to find Osha and Mance in chains and Lady Stark waiting with an axe and a chopping block?

"If Father does go to Kings Landing, do you think he would take me with him?" Bran asked. His little brother was riding with him, his father and the King rode far ahead, towards the front of the procession.

"Maybe, it depends." Jon shrugged vaguely, his mind not really on the conversation.

The Sansa he had once known, would not have hesitated to run to her mother with the news that her bastard half-brother had smuggled a wildling woman into the castle. She was a good girl who thrived on rules and stuck to them rigidly seeing only their word and not the spirit behind them. How could she not when every rule about being a lady seemed to have been designed with her specifically in mind.

This older Sansa was different though. She had seen more of the world, she seemed to understand it's nuances and subtleties. She revealed the rumours of Ashara Dayne but cautioned him against trusting in gossip.

Jon had asked Arya, who had somehow inexplicably gotten herself onto the hunt, if she thought Sansa had changed much. Arya had merely looked at him incredulously and said that Sansa was still the same stuck up lady she always had been.

"If she's being nicer to you, it's only because you are now First Ranger and she doesn't want to appear ill mannered in front her rich husband." Arya had said.

But Arya hadn't known of the time Jon and Sansa spent alone. When Sansa would sit in front of the fire and smile at him gently as she told him of her time in the South.

Could she really have had thoughts of accusations and betrayal on her mind as she had agreed to aid the Night's Watch, as she had spoken so happily about the Honeywine and Highgarden?

"Jon...Jon?" Bran was trying to get his attention again. Jon shook his head and tried to clear it of his half-sister "Sorry?"

"I said I hope Father does take me to Kings Landing." Bran said "I could squire to a real knight there."

Jon looked at his little brother and saw dreams of tourneys, chivalry and the Kingsguard in the boy's eyes.

"Don't be too eager to leave Winterfell. Tempting as it may be, the world can wait a few years." Jon advised.

Bran gave him such an exasperated look that it was almost comical and Jon had to struggle not to laugh "I'm twelve Jon, I can't stay at Winterfell forever. Robb will be Lord one day. I have to make my own name and glory like you did."

Jon snorted "You think there's glory to be found in washing old men's socks or digging around in the dirt for mushrooms or sleeping under the carcass of a rotting badger so you don't freeze in the harsh winter wind?"

Bran looked dismayed and asked hopefully "But it wasn't all like that? You spied on the wildlings, Robb said you climbed the Wall with your own bare hands! You held off Mance Rayder at the Battle of Castle Black, the Battle of Hardhome and the Battle of Skirling Pass!"

"That's true" Jon admitted reluctantly, although the last bit wasn't. At Skirling Pass he had hidden in a tent with Val as the ailing Dalla gave birth, by that point too reluctant to kill living men and women once he had seen the real enemy.

"But I was scared shitless through out it all. The Night's Watch is a hard, unpleasant life, why do you think we have so few men?"

Bran looked uncomfortable "But you are happy there, aren’t you Jon? You always wanted to be a Ranger?"

Jon grimaced, _happy_ wasn't the right word "I did...the Night's Watch is where I was always meant to be." Out of the way from Robb's inheritance and Lady Stark "I have brothers there, I belong there. It's how I can best serve the realm." That, at least, was the truth.

Bran seemed to take this for a happier answer than it was for he looked satisfied. "It is your calling. Just like the Kingsguard is mine."

Jon tried not to laugh, but he smirked and leaned over to Bran and his pony to ruffle his little brother's russet hair "You are Brandon Stark, second true son of the Lord in the North and nephew of the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands. Your calling is what you make of it. If you want to spend your days hunting in the Wolfswood or growing fat eating sweets in a manse in White Harbor then that is your right."

Bran looked at him aghast "But what honour is there in that? Surely I should have a true and noble purpose."

"Like guarding the King?" Jon had to watch his voice so his tone did not show what he truly thought of Robert Baratheon "The King has an army, a household guard and un-breachable castle walls to protect him. As a Kingsguard you will merely spend your days standing in hallways looking pretty in golden armour."

"That's a rather harsh assessment Snow." And to Jon's unease and Bran's horror, Jaime Lannister had ridden up alongside them. He gave them a sickly smile "Forgive me, I could not help but overhear the tail end of your conversation."

"Of course not." Jon muttered under his breath.

Lannister gave him an appraising look "You're a dour one Snow."

"Your brother would tell you that the Kingsguard are nothing because we do not fight savages who wear no armour and carry wooden sticks in place of swords." The Kingslayer drawled to Bran "He forgets that it will be the Kingsguard that protect the realm when Daenerys Targaryen and her dragons arrive at our shores."

The man was practically hard at the thought of the oncoming war, he was no true knight Jon thought contemptuously.

"And when was the last time you last shed blood outside a tourney?" Jon challenged him with a curled lip, wondering if he would dare speak of slaying the last King he served.

Jaime Lannister met his hard gaze with laughing eyes and a smirk, "At the Siege of Pyke, now there was a real battle. Our enemy even had steel…"

He continued telling Bran of all the gore and bloodshed of the Greyjoy Rebellion in words of such heroism and grandeur that swept up his little brother in a dream of chivalry and made Jon feel sick. He could only imagine what his father would say now if he could hear the Kingslayer speak so.

As it neared lunchtime and they reached the predetermined clearing, dismounted and Lannister left them to return to the King's side.

Servants had ridden ahead of them early in the morning and set up canopies, long laden tables and four spits over which roasted hogs and rabbits that had been brought from the kitchens. Most of the hunting party was already seated; knights in front of him gossiped like fish wives about whores they knew back in Kings Landing and tourneys in which they had taken part. Ser Rodrik was giving a long lecture about the right make up of parsnip stew to the Hasty knight as they passed a wine skin back and forth between them. And Lord Stark and the King sat in the middle laughing with large tankards full of mead.

"Where's Robb and the others?" Bran squinted round at the group as he and Jon dismounted from their horses and Jon tied the reins to a branch of a walnut tree.

A couple of hours after the hunt had begun, Robb, Theon, Arya, Prince Joffrey and some squires had ridden ahead to stalk deer on their own. Jon imagined they intended to have more success without the large company of drunken older men for whom this more like a grand day out than a hunt.

"I expect they took their lunch with them." Jon said.

Bran looked disappointed, he had clearly wanted to go with the younger, more glamorous group but was considered too young to ask. Jon had been asked by both Robb and Arya but was forced to decline. He wasn't there to hunt after all.

Bran bowed his head but was soon waved over by Prince Tommen, who had somehow got hold of a two foot wide steaming blackberry pie. Jon watched him go and took a moment to follow.

Out of the corner of his eye Jon noticed that the tree, he had tied his horse to, still had a few walnuts. He stared in amazement for a while, it had been a good few moons since he had seen a tree baring fruit. Unconsciously Jon pushed himself up into the tree and grabbed as many of the nuts as he could reach, filling his pockets.

He sat down for lunch with Ser Arys Oakheart of the Kingsguard. Oakheart was a pleasant sort of man who had pinned a golden leaf of House Oakheart on his thick white woollen cloak. He had an older brother who was heir to Old Oak and Jon managed to bond with him over being a second son and making one's own way in the world. He seemed interested in the War Beyond the Wall and disappointed he couldn't have joined Stannis and his men. When Jon started to mention the lack of steel at the Wall however, Ser Arys mumbled something about needing to check on the King and fled very quickly.

Next Jon ended up talking to Ser Gilbert Cressey of the Crownlands, who at first seemed happy to hear Jon's pleas to tell Lord Cressey of the need for men and food at the Wall. Cressey then spent what felt like a very long time telling Jon, that House Cressey would be happy to help if only the price of silversmiths hadn't risen so high and who were common labourers to demand more coin from their Lords just because winter had come and they could get a better price for their work in Braavos.

"Empty threats, empty threats! As if a peasant would dare cross the Narrow Sea." Cressey sneered gesticulating wildly with his tankard.

"Yes but, back to the Watch…"

"Lily livered, that's what these peasants all are...think they have the cheek to ask my Lord Uncle…"

"Excuse me" Jon mumbled, confident that the man was far too drunk and distracted by his own outrage to notice Jon's escape.

Jon fled to one of the stalking parties. The group had started to break up now, his father and the King led one and Bran and Prince Tommen had gone in another. In his haste, Jon found himself in a small group of what looked like six hedge knights that included Tyrion Lannister's sellsword.

"Bronn?" Jon queried making sure he had the man's name right.

"That's Ser Bronn of the Blackwater to you." Bronn walked at a fast pace so Jon had to march quickly to keep up "And you're wasting your time with me boy. I've got no gold you can grab for your band of rapers and thieves."

"What about your House, do they have any gold I can steal?" Jon asked sensing that flattery was not the way to go with this one.

Bronn snorted "The last time I saw my father he was tending pigs for some landed knight. Would you like a pile of pig shit?"

Jon sighed, he had picked the dregs of the royal procession "Pig shit is good fertiliser. We're low on food."

Bronn laughed "All right, you send the boat to the Saltpans and you'll get a nice boatload of pig shit."

" _Shh_ " Ser Courtney Hasty, who led their group at the front, hissed angrily back at them.

"What woodbeetle does he think we'll disturb." Bronn whispered.

"The same ones the King is hunting." Jon murmured back. It then struck him that if he couldn't get gold out of Bronn, he might be able to get information "Forgive me for earlier. I did not know you were a knight, I had heard you were a sellsword."

"From your sister no doubt. I was a cutthroat when Lord Tyrion first employed me and now I'm an anointed cutthroat."

"But I doubt you fit Sansa's picture of a knights" Jon said wryly "It doesn't seem as though she's changed much."

"Couldn't say, barely speaks a word in front of me, or her husband for that matter." Bronn said "She's tricky that one, has a face like clouded glass - can't tell if she's disgusted with me, fears me or barely knows I exist."

Those were not comforting words.

"I imagine it’s the latter, Sansa never had much time for servants." Jon remarked, eager to keep the man talking.

"Oh I wouldn't say that, she was kind to her husband's squire but then only a monster would hurt that boy" He said, his voice had taken on a dark tone. "And then there is the Hound, she seems to get on well enough with him."

" _The Hound_?" Jon asked with incredulity. He could not for the life of him imagine Sansa liking such a creature.

"He's alright once you get past the burns and the grumpiness, he's helped…" Bronn stopped himself before continuing quickly "He's helped me in a tavern brawl a few times."

That wasn't what he was going to say. Bronn had been going to say that Sandor Clegane had helped Sansa with something, but what?

He thought about asking Bronn about Sansa's maids, the ones she wanted spied upon but then stopped himself. Bronn would be loyal to Tyrion not Sansa and he doubted this was something that Sansa wanted getting back to her dwarf husband. Tyrion had probably picked the maids himself.

A thought occurred to him that maybe Sansa suspected that one of her ladies was having an affair with Tyrion. It was not unknown after all for Lords to go after their wives' pretty, gently bred attendants and it was clear Sansa had not picked out the women herself.

"And the marriage itself? I thought they seemed content…." He trailed off hoping Bronn would follow.

"There are worse marriages I suppose." Bronn shrugged and then looked at Jon suspiciously "Why?"

"I'm her brother." Jon brushed off easily "I want to know she's being well cared for."

The hedge knight narrowed his eyes "She's being well cared for. Your sister was lucky to marry Tyrion in that regard."

For some reason Jon felt uneasy about the comment but before he could question it there was another hiss for silence from Hasty.

There was a rustle in the bushes and they crept forwards silently, treading as lightly on the snow as they could with bow strings taught and arrows poised. Then a short of red darted out of the bushes and up into the loftiest branches of the ironwood.

Jon aimed but something whooshed passed his head. There a twang and suddenly the red squirrel fell out of the sky and landed at their feet. An arrow speared its neck.

"And here was I thinking I wouldn't catch anything." Bronn quipped and he bent to retrieve his arrow.

* * *

The squirrel was their sole triumph but that pitiful return was better than many of the other groups. The King's party converged on the others, singing _The False and The Fair_ , they had caught a pair of roosting owls and Robert Baratheon seemed merry enough in the company of his friend, ale and something he'd found to kill.

That was until Robb's party joined them, in which two of their squires carried the hanging carcass of a fawn in-between them and the King's smile slipped slightly. Robb, Theon and Prince Joffrey all took credit for kill but later Arya told Jon it was Robb who had struck the killing blow.

"We were lucky really." She confided in Jon "The thing was lame." and she nodded to it's left hind leg which was bent awkwardly.

Arya was happier too than he had seen her since returning to Winterfell and he wondered if Robb had let off teasing her so much for how different she was to other ladies, like Sansa. In the past he had hoped that in his absence Robb would become the older brother Arya needed, the one she could feel at ease being herself with when everyone else saw her as awkward or difficult.

"So you had a good time with Robb then?" Jon grinned. Just because he felt uneasy in Robb's company did not mean Arya should be denied the comfort she deserved.

Arya paused and then said thoughtfully "It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, Prince Joffrey's a shit though."

Jon snorted, both bemused and amused "Aye, I suppose he is."

"You should have been allowed to come with us. It's not fair that you had to go stalking with the hedge knights." Arya complained.

Jon frowned and it took him a second to realise she thought he had stayed with the main group because he was a bastard "It wasn't a question of being allowed, I could have gone with you and Robb but my duty was to stay behind. I have to make friends with these knights so their families will muster support for the Night's Watch."

"I understand that, I just thought you could come along this once." Arya argued.

Did she understand it though? Arya had lived all her life in Winterfell, growing up she had been cleverer and more self-aware than any of them. She was still those things but the echo of innocence hung about her shoulders as it did with Robb, Bran and Rickon.

It was as walls of Winterfell came closer that Jon's fears returned and he became more withdrawn, to Arya's displeasure. Thoughts of what might have occurred in his absence filled his mind and as they entered the gates he swore he could feel the prickle of the guards' stare on his neck. Lady Stark was not waiting for them but it was cold and she could be inside. Needing to find Osha and Mance he dismounted quickly and hastened inside the keep.

Osha was not in the nursery. Instead Jon found a maid caring for the two babes with no notion of where Osha had gone. Tense with alarm Jon stampeded through the castle, he scoured the Godswood, the Library Tower, the kitchens and found no sign of Osha or Mance.

Panic and flights of escape started to overrun his head. What would he do if they had been caught, what would he do if they were in hiding? If Lady Stark did know, why had there been no guards waiting for him?

Could it be she had sent guards and they were, even now, combing the castle for him? Winterfell was vast and a man could hide amongst its walls for days. As Jon moved along the passageways he started to keep to the shadows, eyes alert for any movement of swords and he ducked in different directions whenever he came across too many people.

The East Gate was easiest to run from but if Sansa had told then all the gates would shut. Closed as soon as Jon returned from the hunt to trap him. He could jump from the walls Jon thought wildly, the snow was thick enough to break a fall.

But then what of Osha and Mance? Mance was their only hope and neither would leave without Dallan.

The sky darkened and night fell. Shadows crawled along the stonework like spiders trapping Jon in a paranoid web. Then he saw them.

Osha and Mance leaving the glass gardens.

"Where the fuck have you been?" He hissed angrily as soon as he got close to them.

"Looking at fucking tomatoes, what's got your goat?" Mance asked.

Osha smirked "He thought the little lady would rat on us."

Jon swallowed, trying to calm his breath, that was exactly what he thought.

"How's she going to tell on me? She knows nothing of me." Mance boasted.

"Yet!" Jon corrected "It only took Sansa a sennight to find out the truth on Osha, how long before she works out there's something off with you, your grace." He sneered "From now on, you two can't be seen together. I'll be the go between for Dallan."

Osha raised her eyebrows "I'm not scared of no little lady. She won't rat me out because if she does, I'll stick my dirk in the back of her pretty neck."

"That's enough." Mance growled to the pair of them "Panicking will serve us no purpose right now, let's keep a cool head and leave Lady Lannister play her little games for the time being. We'll soon see if she's a threat."

"You'll both stay away from Sansa. I know her better, I'll deal with her." Jon glared at them both forcefully "And stay apart, from now on."

Breathing angry puffs he marched back to the keep. He didn't know Sansa, he didn't know what games she was playing.

The capture of the fawn had produced a near feast liked merriment at dinner and the Great Hall was bursting to the brim with what felt like every man in Winterfell. Musicians were playing a lutes, flutes and drums and people were up and about, weaving among the tables to jest and drink.

Jon spotted Sansa immediately. She was standing off to the side talking pleasantly to the Prince's sworn shield Sandor Clegane. Grown men recoiled on first seeing the brutally scarred Hound but Sansa looked him straight in the eye and conversed as politely as she would have done with Princess Myrcella.

A face like clouded glass, that's what Bronn had said. Expressionless and immovable. She moved slightly and strands of long red hair fell gently over her shoulder, he wanted to walk over now and pull her away from the Hound.

"Jon!" Robb was waving him over to one of the tables closer to the front. Jon reluctantly tore his eyes from Sansa and went over to join him.

"Where have you been, you missed the excitement." Robb grinned pouring Jon some ale as he sat down.

"To be fair it was only a little excitement." Jory Cassel sniggered.

Robb held his finger and thumb close together and chortled "An itty bitty bit of excitement."

Theon groaned "Will you two shut the fuck up"

"What are they talking about?"

"Little Theon was on display to the world earlier." Jory laughed.

"And the world was not impressed." Robb added "Not that we ever expected Little Theon to live up to such vaunted praises sung so ardently by his owner."

"It was a cold fucking corridor ok! Its the middle of winter for the gods sake." Theon cried and then to Jon he said "Some fucker stole my clothes, all my fucking clothes while I was in the bath. All the fucking bedding too so I didn’t even have a sheet to wrap around me."

Jon snickered.

"He had to go out into the hall starkers." Robb grinned "Half the servants must have seen, even mother and Sansa saw. Not that there was much to see."

Jon looked up onto the dias and saw Sansa had returned, she was talking pleasantly to Sonya Poole but both ladies were watching Theon out of the corners of their eyes with an air of...satisfaction.

Robb and Theon were still arguing.

"I'll whip it out right here, right now by the hearth and we can fucking measure them Stark."

Robb snickered "Really, you're ready to risk my mother's wrath again? Next time she'll get the belt."

Theon gave an audible swallow and glanced up to where Lady Stark was giving their table a deathly stare. Jon continued to watch Sansa over the brim of his tankard, Sonya Poole had left and her face was expressionless again as she ate in next to her husband.

She was always so quiet in front of him, she was so quiet in front all the Lannisters. Was that why she was so desperate to get rid of her maids?

The Prince joined them and both Jon and Robb tried not to grimace. "I hear you exposed yourself Greyjoy" Joffrey sneered distastefully "Or were you attempting to join the Sparrows, haven't you heard my father outlawed that ridiculous cult?"

"Ha, bloody ha." Theon said "When I found out what cunt did this, I'm going to string him up by his innards."

"I don't see how, you couldn't even saddle your horse properly today." Joffrey said and Robb smirked again. "Although the sight of you tumbling into horse shit was mildly amusing

"That wasn't my fault." Theon argued "Somebody had tampered with it, someone's out to get me."

"Oh give it a rest Greyjoy. The saddle was just old, Arya patched it up in no time." Robb reasoned.

"Where is your sister anyway?" Joffrey asked scouring the top table. Jon took a minute to look too and realised he was right, Arya was nowhere to be found.

"Mother forbid her from coming to dinner. Apparently she lied to Father that she had mother's permission to come on the hunt." Robb said casually "She's been banished to her room."

Jon frowned, "That doesn't sound like Arya." She was a trouble maker certainly but she had never outright lied to Father before.

Joffrey gave a disinterested sniff "Well a hunt is no place for a lady anyway. Serves her right."

"You didn't say that to her face earlier today." Robb said coolly.

"Why would I? Don't mistake my manners for your Northern ways Stark." Joffrey sneered and he said Northern as another might say savage.

"Don't worry, I won't" Robb replied equally as coldly.

Jory slurped his drink awkwardly. Jon wondered if he should say something, he felt like coming to Robb's aid but knew he wasn't in a position to anger the prince.

A chair scraped from up on the dias and Jon saw Sansa making her way to leave the hall.

"Excuse me" Jon muttered and got up. As he left, he grabbed a bottle of Arbor Gold. He followed Sansa to her chambers and allowed a minute before knocking on her door.

"Jon?" She seemed pleased to see him.

Jon held up the bottle of Arbor Gold "I thought a celebration was in order."

Sansa frowned perplexed "I don't understand" but she let him in anyway and found some cups.

Jon raised his in a toast "To making a fool of Theon."

Sansa gave a small smile as they sat down by the fire "That wasn't me."

"Of course it was, you're the only one sneaky enough in the castle."

"There are others sneakier than me, or did you not notice that Winterfell has been besieged by Lannisters." Sansa said airily "Real Lannisters, I mean."

"But they don't have the same desire to humiliate Theon."

Sansa gave a mock sigh "Jon, everybody desires to humiliate Theon."

Jon chortled and then addressed her seriously "So you had no intention of avenging what happened to Jeyne Poole?"

She turned from him and looked into the fire. The flames flickered casting dancing shadows on her smooth porcelain skin. Her eyes bowed demurely, startling blue under thick curly eyelashes, blue like the forget-me-nots of the Frostfangs. How hard would she have to flutter those eyelashes to get a stable hand to tamper with the saddle or a servant to take Greyjoy's clothes and bedding?

"It could have been anyone." She said softly.

"Aye it could have, but it was you."

Sansa took a long swig of wine and then said coldly "He deserved it."

"Yes he did." Jon leaned forward to top off her wine "And what do I deserve?"

"You?" Sansa frowned in what appeared to be genuine confusion now. Her eyes flicked to her cup "Are you attempting to get me drunk so you can interrogate me?"

Jon felt his cheeks heat a little "Interrogate is a strong word. I just want to know what you plan to do about Osha."

"We have already discussed that. Nothing."

"As long as she spies on your maids? Osha's a wildling, she's an enemy of the North and yet you care more about getting information on your servants. Why?"

Sansa narrowed her eyes "You're not very good at this, you're supposed to get me drunk before you ask the questions."

"I'm not supposed to do anything. This is how I'm choosing to play this."

"But why do you need to play it at all? Osha's just a common woman looking for bread and board - that's what you told me." Sansa said "I would have thought even father would understand that. So why all the secrecy? Why are you so panicked?"

"I'm not panicked." When had the conversation gotten away from him?

"Yes you are, you couldn't even get me in my cups before you started blurting out questions."

Jon took a deep breath and a long swig of wine. He stared at her hard, trying to intimidate her as he attempted to come up with something better to say.

"I suppose at the Wall you could use a knife or sword to pull the truth from someone." Sansa said calmly, as though she were talking of needlework. "In Kings Landing, its said the fashion is to slip a pretty girl into a man's bed to get his secrets...or a pretty boy." She blushed as if ashamed to be speaking of such things.

"I don't want to talk about any of that, don't change the subject."

"I thought this was the subject." Gods she was maddening.

"We were talking of your maids and why you are so desperate to get rid of them, not interrogation techniques." Jon insisted.

There - let her spin that into something else.

Sansa stayed silent, she then looked back to the fire "I don't see why its any of your business" she said quietly "I don't ask you why you speak of wildlings so kindly, why you're so panicked about Osha."

"Why don't you?" Jon asked, he felt anxious but then not as anxious as he probably should.

"Because I trust you."

Jon frowned and then snorted. To his surprise Sansa looked a little hurt at this, the light in her eyes from the teasing went dark and her face fell. Jon had to stop himself from feeling guilty.

"Then why won't you tell me what is wrong with your ladies?" He pressed, he tried to speak in a gentler tone but his voice came out low and gruff.

Sansa shifted uncomfortably in her seat "I just don't trust them, that's all. They are Lannister women."

Jon frowned in confusion and he tried to say kindly "But even if you remove Kitty and Shae, surely your husband will just replace them with other Lannister women?"

"I don't think I would mind women that were loyal to Tyrion." Sansa said quietly and then as if she couldn't help herself "But Kitty is Lord Tywin's creature."

"Lord Tywin does not seem like a man to be crossed." Jon said carefully, he was worried now, he didn't like the thought of Sansa playing games with the Lannisters who held her at their mercy.

"That's why I have to act in Winterfell, away from his influence. I have to get rid of her." She pressed, her voice rising "I have to..."

She stopped and turned away from him again, a delicate hand covering her mouth as her eyes became wet with unshed tears.

"Sansa..." He said softly, gingerly placing a hand on her knee in a poor attempt to comfort her.

She sniffed and a lone tear fell. She frantically wiped it with the back of one of her long sleeves and Jon's heart clenched at her distress.

"Tell me." He begged.

"I...I think she killed Lady" she whispered at last.

Jon sucked in a breath and sat up in his seat, his hand leaving her knee "How do you know?"

He had heard from Robb how a year into Sansa's marriage her direwolf had fallen ill and died of some disease.

"I...Kitty was the only one who served Lady her food. I know she poisoned it." Sansa whispered, her voice so soft like a little mouse "Lady was so good, she tried to protect me. My husband's cousin, he...and Lady attacked him. They...they killed her."

"Was Tyrion part of it? Did he know?" Jon asked urgently, thinking he would tell Father. He would hurt the dwarf himself if he had to.

Sansa shook her head "I don't think so, he seemed upset. He argued with his father afterwards, not just about Lady but I think that was part of it. That was why we went to Kings Landing." She mumbled this last part bitterly "As if that made anything better."

.

Time ticked by and Sansa had wiped her tears. Jon didn't want to upset her but he had to ask "Are you sure Kitty knew? Somebody might have given her the meat and..."

"She knew..." Sansa said giving Jon such a glare that made him wince.

"But if she didn't then..." In his head he was thinking of a woman who needed to work being driven to destitution by Sansa's grief.

"You don't know her. You don't know what she's like. She..." She stopped herself and Jon got the impression she was about to say something further "She's not a good person." Sansa insisted.

Jon must have looked unconvinced for she added "I trust your judgement of Osha, why don't you trust mine of Kitty."

Jon sucked in a breath, "You're right.." He admitted hoarsely.

"It's because you think I'm stupid." Sansa mumbled dispassionately "It's ok, everybody does."

Jon frowned, perplexed that she held such a notion "I don't think that." Sansa looked at him with such strong disbelief that it sunk into her face and seemed to etch into her bones.

"I don't." He said more forcefully "You know more about the South than anybody I know, you know the houses, you know the people. You pick things up, you know how to find secrets, nobody else knows of Osha, you are..."

"Better at interrogating than you." Sansa added quietly but wearing a small impish smile.

Jon smirked "Maybe here. I'm quite good at the Wall...There aren't pretty girls to flutter eyelashes and slip into people's beds to steal their secrets there."

Sansa flushed "Pretty boys though" she whispered as though she hardly dare speak of it "That sort of things done a lot at the Wall isn't it?"

Jon didn't know whether to laugh or cry out in shock, he chuckled embarrassed "Um...huh, yes, I suppose so." he said thinking about Grenn and Satin who he knew sometimes stole into each other's beds on cold, dark nights. He felt very awkward about talking of such things with Sansa. She was still so innocent, so maiden looking and yet she knew so much "I imagine that's another of the things they gossip about at court."

Sansa nodded meekly, she was red faced and trying not to giggle.

"Not, that I.... I mean _I_...don't..." Jon spluttered, he could easily ignore Theon's innuendos about the brothers of the Night's Watch buggering each other, but he felt odd about Sansa thinking such a notion.

"It does not matter if you are, I suppose." Sansa said sweetly.

Jon suddenly had a wild notion to tell her about Ygritte and how much not like the brothers who stole between each other's furs he was. He stamped it down for all the inappropriateness it involved.

.

“Renly Baratheon is that way inclined” Sansa said a little later.

Jon rose his eyebrows, he’d heard rumors “Oh yes?”

“He barely hides it, the whole realm knows…or at least everybody in Kings Landing.” Sansa replied. She had taken out some needlework - black silk _, my shirt_ , and was making stitches in it as tiny as a mouse's “Everyone but the King, he would not believe it of his brother if Renly kissed his lover in the Throne Room.”

“One wonders that people don’t snigger.”

“Oh they do, but not to his face – they wouldn’t dare.”

“Lord Renly is a fearsome creature then?”

“No but he is kind, handsome and loved by the smallfolk.”

Jon smirked at her, as if such things were protection from highborns with axes to grind.

“His lover is also the finest swordsman in the realm and one of the richest.”

“Ah” Jon said now understanding and then asked, his voice laced with amusement “And who is the finest swordsman in the realm?”

She narrowed her eyes at him to show he had irritated her “Ser Loras Tyrell.”

“Well, I’ve never seen Ser Loras Tyrell fight, so mayhaps he is the finest swordsman in the realm.”

“Everyone says so. I saw him in the melee at the tourney for Prince Joffrey’s name day, he moves quite well.”

Jon couldn’t help but snort, he took after Lord Stark in that he has little patience for tourney knights who prance around in front of crowds for gold.

“I do know a little about swords you know.” Sansa protested “I used to watch you and Robb train.”

“Aye and you gave up when you were seven. You said it was too boring if there was no story or play to go along with the fighting.” Jon reminded her.

“Well it was.” She knotted double thread of black and pulled it through the silk, joining two pieces together seemlessly “It’s not as if any of you would watch us embroider.”

“I’m watching you embroider right now.”

“I’m sewing not embroidering and you’re not watching me, we’re having a conversation.” Sansa corrected “You wouldn’t sit here and watch me in silence.”

He might, Jon thinks briefly. It is a pretty picture, Sansa sitting by the fire, the golden light flickering against her pale skin and dancing in her dark auburn hair, her brow furrowed in concentration as she makes something neat and intricate with her threads and needles. The way her fingers move seem effortless though Jon hasn't the slightest notion of how a shirt comes together. It is peaceful, soothing even after a long and trying hunt.

Sansa flushed slightly as he took her in and he realized he had been staring. He cleared his throat and quickly dropped his gaze.

After a pause Sansa broke the silence with quiet words he had never expected to hear “Stannis Baratheon thought you were the finest swordsmen in the realm once.”

Jon looked up sharply “What?!”

She nodded, not looking at him but concentrating on her work “He wrote to my Lord Uncle during the War Beyond the Wall. Uncle Jon showed me some of the letters because I was so worried about everyone.”

She was worried about Father and Robb, he doubted she worried much about him.

“I can’t imagine Stannis saying anything like that…about anyone.” Jon frowned. He did not think the man was capable of compliments.

“Oh he didn’t say it explicitly.” Sansa clarified and then looked up as though trying to remember the exact words “He said Eddard Stark’s bastard is a belligerent sort. He has all the arrogance of a boy in his first war and thinks himself capable of conquering the enemy alone. If only his wits were as quick as his skills with the blade.”

Jon chuckled, that sounded more like Stannis although the last sentence was almost a song coming from the pen of the former Lord of Dragonstone.

Sansa smiled along with him but then her face fell as though she had just remembered something “But then he went mad.”

“Aye,” Jon agreed soberly “Then he went mad.”


	8. Let's talk of mad men

**Sansa**

Sansa awoke to something painfully tugging a lock of her hair. Confused and drowsy, her eyes flickered open to see a pair of sharp spherical yellow eyes staring back at her. The lock of red hair fell out of the falcon's beak as she gave a loud high pitched squawk.

"Go away Blueberry" Sansa grumbled. She couldn't remember going to bed last night but it must have been late.

Blueberry screeched, shuffling about on the pillow next to where Sansa's head lay, her curled talons shredding the embroidered casing. Daylight was streaming through the closed shutters, it was not early, Sansa could hear the noises of men talking in the courtyard below, dogs barking and servants moving about the castle.

Blinking, she lifted herself up on her elbows, her head pounded dreadfully and she recalled wine, lots of wine. Her back and shoulders ached and Sansa noticed that she had fallen asleep in her evening dress, the bone ridges of her corset were digging into her skin. She groaned and massaged her forehead with her fingers. There were still pins in her hair, she hadn't taken them out. She must look a fright.

"Ewrrr, Ewwrrr…" Blueberry cried highly, making clicking noises with her beak. Sansa stroked the soft crown feathers with the back her forefinger.

"You are impatient to hunt this morning." She said lovingly. Blueberry clicked her beak more.

A low groan came from the end of the room and Sansa jumped. A dark shadow was slumped in one of the chairs by the empty hearth.

Jon.

Sansa carefully lifted herself out of bed and tiptoed towards the sleeping hunched figure of her half-brother. Awake Jon seemed to carry the weight of the Wall itself on his shoulders, but asleep he appeared relaxed, almost carefree. His face was smooth and empty of worry, as though he were once again as young as Robb and Theon.

Warmth filled her as she watched him breathe in and out, making little rumbles with his breath. He had been so incensed on her behalf the more they had talked of Lady last night, so much so that he had threatened to go to Father, to her husband. He knew what it was to lose a direwolf, he was the only one who did.

Sansa looked back at Blueberry, who was now at the window sill, pecking at closed shutters. _I wish I could find a companion for him to take back to the Wall, all I have to offer is a black silk shirt._

She had persuaded him to let her deal with Kitty and Lady's murder. He still didn’t quite trust her, she could see it in his eyes but he seemed content enough to let her have her secrets in exchange for keeping his.

 _And he holds so many secrets_ , Sansa thought, _they are what weigh him down ._

Jon gave a rather ungraceful snort and Sansa shut her mouth to stop from giggling. He woke himself up and blinked rapidly "Sansa?" He asked confused, looking around disorientated.

"You fell asleep in your chair, we must have stayed up too late." Sansa explained softly, it felt too early to speak louder. "I'm sorry, I should have woken you."

She could barely remember falling asleep herself, it was all something of a haze...they had talked for hours.

Jon shifted around in his chair uncomfortably before rising. Standing, he was only a few inches apart from Sansa, she was close enough to see the curve of his eyelashes and the stubble around his jaw, something stirred inside of her.

There was a knock at the door "My lady, are you awake?" Kitty's voice rang out.

Jon and Sansa moved apart as though they had been yanked by plough horses. Jon's eyes widened, he ran his hand through his black shaggy hair and mouthed 'Shit'.

"O...one moment Kitty…" Sansa replied in shaky voice, her heart racing.

Jon was looking around, seeming to look for another door, he looked at the window and appeared half ready to jump out of it - as though _that_ would cause less of a scene.

"Under the bed" Sansa whispered. Jon almost rolled his eyes at the cliché of this and Sansa shot him a glare - what other choice did they have? If her mother or Tyrion found out about….or Joffrey….Sansa's blood ran cold.

Jon crawled under the bed and Sansa arranged the furs and blankets so the reached the floor and completely concealed what lay underneath of bed. She then opened the shutters and let out the increasingly agitated Blueberry before telling Kitty to come in.

"You are still in your evening wear." Kitty remarked disapprovingly, as soon as she entered, bringing a bowl of warm water for Sansa to wash her face in.

 _Maybe you should attend me in the evenings then, instead of sending ravens to Lord Tywin_ Sansa thought but could not bring herself to say. For one, she was thankful when Kitty was occupied and not there to interrupt or spy on Sansa's evening of conversation with Jon.

"I stayed up too late, writing to Lady Royce."

"You were drinking, you think I don't see the redness of your eyes" Kitty scolded, pulling out the pins in Sansa's hair and brushing and tugging the locks painfully into a more elegant braid "A lady ought not to drink so. The lion is your sigel now and you would do well not to embarrass House Lannister with such debauchery"

Sansa tried not to snort, the Queen and Tyrion were often in their cups. Even Jamie Lannister drunk from time to time since his return from Dragonstone. For a moon after putting the island to the slaughter, the court whispered that he lived and slept in the Street of Vines where the city's best wine merchants were housed. But they were not Sansa, Kitty could not bully them.

Once her face was washed and her hair had been done, Kitty helped her change into teal gown with silver damask. Sansa felt the tense and her insides fluttered as she thought of Jon underneath the bed as Kitty stripped her to her shift. Its not was though he could see anything, Sansa reminded herself.

 _Besides, he is my half-brother, he would wear a blindfold before thinking of looking_.

**Ned**

Ned should have expected this the moment Robb and the others appeared in the clearing, carrying the slain fawn between them. Robert would not be outdone, not even by his son and heir.

That same evening he declared, that the very next day, they would journey deep into the Wolfswood for a four day hunting trip. Ned feared Robert would want to stay longer, until he caught something impressive - a boar or a stag.

"The servants will have forgotten things, packing in such haste." Poole warned as they gathered in the courtyard.

"That is to be expected." Ned said "I'll send a rider back this evening with our location, you can send any afterthoughts on then."

"Very good my lord."

The dogs and horses were being readied. Many of the men looked weary and green after a heavy night's drinking. Hullen was throwing up against the kennels.

Robert though was brighter and livelier than Ned had seen him. He marched out of castle with happy eyes and clapped his hands together in triumph. Only two things ever got Robert's blood up - women and killing.

"The call of the wild awaits Ned" the king declared "Let us hunt like the beasts we are." And he leapt onto his destrier with the vigour of a man half his age.

The rest of the men scrambled to mount their own steeds. Half of them had not even fixed their saddle bags but when the King was ready, his party must be ready too.

Jon ran out one of the side doors panting heavily. He was still fixing his fur cloak as he grabbed one of the spare horses. The King had started to lead the party out of the gates.

"Where have you been?" Ned asked. His bastard looked dreadful, his eyes were red and his clothes ruffled as though he had slept in them.

"I overslept" Jon said and the two joined the rear of the group. Jon gave a weak smile "I'm not used to such fine wine."

Ned nodded in understanding, they really did serve piss ale at the Wall.

As they rode out Jon drifted towards one of the Kettleblacks and struck up conversation while Ned, to his surprise, was joined by the Crown Prince.

Ned was still not quite sure what to make of this boy with his angular Lannister features and mocking eyes. He seemed to have inherited some of Robert's hunting talent at least.

"A good day for a hunt my lord." He said. The sky was cloudless and crisp blue and there was barely a breeze to carry their scent.

"Indeed."

"I noticed Lady Arya is not part of the hunt today."

Ned had wondered if Robert had told his son of the proposed betrothal, it seemed he had.

"It would be hardly proper of my daughter to come on an overnight trip, especially when there are no ladies present." Ned reminded him coolly. _And she lied to me_ , it was bad enough that Jon and Sansa had left Winterfell, that Robb commanded armies but now Arya was lying to him.

"Of course but Lady Arya hardly strikes me as a proper lady." Prince Joffrey smirked and Ned glared at him, unable to believe the boy's nerve. He wondered if he could hit him...probably not.

"You will have no fear in Kings Landing my lord, when I take Arya hunting in the Kingswood I assure you she shall be properly chaperoned." His prince continued.

"You forget your grace that the betrothal has not yet been agreed to." Ned said politely but in a voice that had a certain edge to it "I shall not have my daughter courted without my agreement."

"Of course." Joffrey waved away with the cockiness of youth that reminded Ned uncomfortably of both Robert and Brandon. He didn't seem to really care that Arya was far from a perfect lady but would that make him a good husband?

"I shall treat her with the upmost respect." He continued "Please, if you have any concerns about my character ask Lady Sansa. She has lived in the Red Keep for almost three years and will hardly hide anything from her own father."

"That won't be necessary" Ned said although he reluctantly appreciated the gesture. A handsome, charming, well dressed prince - Ned did not need to ask Sansa to know what her opinion of Prince Joffrey would be. In another world, a world with better weather and where Ned was better at ruling, Sansa would have been delighted to call him husband.

**Arya**

Marna's Hall, named for Arya's great grandmother, was a smallish stone chamber with a low ceiling and long windows that flooded the room with light. The acoustics of the room were good and it was often used for dance and music lessons. Once seven years ago, a minstrel had visited Winterfell and Lady Stark had employed him to teach her daughters the bells.

Sansa had excelled. Arya and Bran had put frogs in the minstrel's bed and scared him off. Sansa was furious.

Now Bran was hunting and one of the royal party's singers played the lute in the corner singing a folky melody as Arya was forced to dance silly little dances with Princess Myrcella and the other highborn maidens staying at Winterfell.

_"Oh, have you seen my boy, good ser?_

_His hair is chestnut brown"_

"And turn, turn with the rhythm of the music" Septa Eglantine commanded circling in a perimeter round the dancing girls. "Your skirts should swoop like a swan landing on a lake, don't forget to smile Lady Arya."

Arya forced a stupid fixed smile on her face to replace the scowl, she caught sight of herself in one of the mirrors arranged at the back of the hall - she looked like a deranged loon and her cheeks hurt.

 _"We are not punishing you for hunting but for lying."_ Her mother had said when Arya had been sentenced to dinner in her rooms for the next few days and threatened to be forbidden from going to Long Lake. That was a lie too, maybe it was Father's reasoning but Lady Catelyn was definitely upset about the hunting and now she was going to force Arya into the little lady daughter she longed for.

But Arya would hunt again, ladies in the South hunted. Prince Joffrey said so.

_"He'd promised he'd come back to me_

_Our home's in Wendish Town"_

"I wish the boys were here" Rosamund Lannister sighed as Arya twirled her "Then we could dance properly."

"I wish we were on the hunting trip." Arya grumbled beneath her maniacal smile.

"Oh Lady Arya you are wild." Princess Myrcella's lady in waiting giggled "But then we'd be all dirty and sweaty, we'd look a terrible fright."

 _I'd say we look a terrible fright right now_ Arya thought, thinking poisonously of the stupid steps they had to be taking. Arya tripped on her skirt and nearly fell flat on her arse.

"Lady Arya, please concentrate!" Septa Eglantine snapped.

Arya sent the septa a fierce glare as soon as her back was turned.

"I wanted to ask you something?" Rosamund whispered conspiratorially "Has your brother said anything about Myrcella?"

"Err… which brother?" Arya asked bewildered as to what she could be talking about.

"Robb of course silly." Rosamund gave a melodious little laugh "He's dreadfully handsome, isn't he?"

"What Robb?" Arya asked wondering if the girl had eaten some uncooked meat. She supposed there was nothing objectively wrong with how Robb looked but who thought that a boy who stuck spoons up his nose could be considered dashing? Then again, the princess and her ladies had never seen that particular behaviour.

"And brave too" Rosamund continued, ignoring her dance partner "Lady Sansa used to read us your mother's letters during the war, when I heard how he had fought Mance Rayder himself, I very nearly fainted."

"He didn’t win." Arya said "And Jon fought Rayder, he spied on him as well." She's not quite sure why she's defending Jon, the pillock has been both useless and absent this visit.

The singer finished his song and started to play _The Maids that Bloom in Spring_.

"True, Jon Snow is very handsome as well, in a rugged sort of way, but hasn't he forsaken women as a member of the Night's Watch?"

Arya didn't think that Jon was handsome, she thought he was a horse's arse and she wanted to point out that at twelve years old, Rosamund was hardly a woman.

"So what?" she shrugged.

"We heard there might be a match made. " Rosamund confided "Everyone knows of the great friendship between the King and Lord Stark and what better way to seal it by marrying Robb and Myrcella?"

 _"Robb and the Princess?"_ Arya cried, aghast at the thought of the delicate soft spoken princess here at Winterfell permanently. She'd fill the castle with flowers and harpists. Mother would love her.

"Wouldn't it be wonderful?" Rosamund sighed dreamily, completely oblivious to Arya's reaction "I had worried that Winterfell might be too cold and barren for Myrcella - I mean you hear such stories in Kings Landing. But it's not too bad really and with a few light touches…"

Arya was just about to tell Rosamund what she could do with her light touches when there was a knock on one of the open doors to the chamber. It was Sonya Poole.

"My lady." She addressed Arya "Your mother has asked to see you in the glass gardens."

Her mother was cutting pink carnations from the stems with a slender little pair of pruners when Arya was brought to her. The warm heat of the glass gardens was a balm against the drafty corridors of the castle.

"You called m'lady" Arya made a sarcastic little curtsy.

Her mother gave her a withering glare "Don't be like that Arya, I thought you would like a respite from dancing."

Picking flowers in the glass gardens with her mother and sister was little better. _Still at least I don't have to smile_ Arya thought savagely as she picked up another pair of pruners and started cutting foxgloves.

A few feet away Sansa and her maid Kitty were weaving the flowers already cut into pretty wreaths and arrangements that would decorate the Great Hall.

"I do hope the hunting party returns soon, it would be a shame for the decorations to go to waste without a feast" Arya heard Sansa say to her maid.

"Yes my lady" Kitty said little in contrast to Sansa's other maid Shae, who barely shut up. Both seemed to have little in the way of sense in their heads.

"I've hardly spent anytime with Robb at all this visit and I did so want to teach him the southern card games." Sansa said wistfully "And you must want to see more of Theon of course."

Kitty looked confused "I don't understand my lady, why should I wish to see Theon Greyjoy."

"Oh" Sansa covered her mouth and looked faintly embarrassed "I only thought….forgive me I should not have said anything."

Kitty appeared to be trying very hard not push her mistress. Fortunately for her, Sansa rarely required much pushing.

"It's only that I heard him say he thought you very beautiful, prettier even than the Queen." Sansa whispered "You must not say anything of course, he would be dreadfully upset if you knew."

Arya struggled not to laugh out loud. If the pair of them had any sense, they would both run a hundred miles from Theon.

Kitty, however, seemed indifferent to the compliment "We should not talk of such things in the glass gardens my lady" she said primly. Arya thought that her primness made her the perfect companion for Sansa.

Lady Catelyn addressed her, forcing her attention away from eavesdropping on Sansa and Kitty "Was Princess Myrcella enjoying her dance lessons when you left?"

"As much as anyone enjoys prancing around like a prat." Arya shrugged.

Her mother pursed her lips in disapproval "I wish you wouldn't use such language" she muttered under her breath "I know that this visit has been trying for you, but your father and I appreciate you doing your duty and entertaining the Princess."

It was more than a duty, Princess Myrcella was sweet enough but she was just so _boring_. Arya wondered if she should tell her mother that Myrcella had set her sights on Robb, maybe she already knew of the potential betrothal.

"It is why we were so disappointed that you abandoned her to go hunting."

A prickle of guilt lit inside her and Arya try to stamp it out "I thought you were upset that I lied."

"That too." Her mother said with pursed lips "I expect better from you Arya, you will be a young woman soon. You must learn to think of your House and your family as well as yourself."

Arya knew what she meant, it was time for her to do her duty, to entertain highborn ladies and gods forbid, one day marry. But why couldn't she serve her House Stark like Bran and Rickon would - by fighting alongside Robb on the battlefield, defending Winterfell and the North from wildling invaders and the Dragon Queen?

"I know, I am sorry but…"

"You couldn't take one more day embroidering." And to her surprise her mother gave her a small smile "But you have to learn to be responsible Arya. You have been sheltered here at Winterfell, the world is a dangerous place and we must be able to trust each other."

Arya felt the gnawing sensation of guilt once more "I know." she said with slumped shoulders.

"I will let you go to Long Lake with the others..." Delight crept up in Arya's stomach and she tried not to smile "If you promise to not to lie to me again and to look after the Princess. She will not be used to such conditions."

"I promise." Arya said fervently and then admitted "She's not so bad really, just a bit...girly."

"Heavens forbid." Her mother rolled her eyes mockingly and Arya couldn't help but grin "She seems like a sweet girl to me." She paused and then asked "What do you think of her brothers?"

"The princes?" Her mother nodded and Arya shrugged "Tommen's a bit of a wet drip but he's harmless enough I suppose. Did you know he has three cats back in Kings Landing and one of them came from the Orange Coast?"

"Indeed...and Prince Joffrey?"

Arya shrugged again, Jon and Robb hated him but they hadn't been the ones who had invited her on the hunt "He's alright I guess" She said "For a spoiled southerner."

Her mother hummed "High praise indeed" she said with a small smile.

**Jaime**

Gods curse hunting lodges and the men that first claimed to hunt for pleasure, Jaime thought. They were three days deep into the Wolfswood and sheltering in an old hunting lodge that had not been used since the time of Cregan Stark; it had dusty floors, rickety walls that let in the winter winds and it smelled of wet feet.

Jaime Lannister sat huddled by the fire under two deer skins trying not to show revulsion as his King drank ale from a horn and told the men of all the whores he had fucked.

"Do you remember your wench Ned, the one with the big teats on the road from the Stony Sept? What was her name - Betty?" Robert reminisced nudging his friend with his elbow. If only the Gods had made Ned Stark a woman with big teats, then the King would be truly happy, thought Jaime trying not to smirk.

"Bessie" Stark corrected looking tired and somewhat embarrassed "And she was one of yours."

Robert barked with laughter "Ah, may the gods bless Bessie with the big teats" and he raised a toast to the far off wench that he had fondled in decades past. Stark chuckled uncomfortably.

Jamie had little time for Stark's _honour_ or the way the host lord called him _Kingslayer_ behind Jaime's back. As though he wasn't as disgusting as them all, as though his bastard son didn't spar with his trueborn brothers and the princes by the lodge's entrance.

Jon Snow was a curious creature, with the exception of the babe he looked more like Lord Stark than any of his trueborn sons. That was what probably got him sent to the Wall at such a young age Jaime thought, and what made him as sour as his sire. But it was more than sourness, there was a sullenness, a melancholy in Snow that should only belong in the old and dying. It was a melancholy that stuck in his mind, as though calling back to some long forgotten memory.

As far as Jaime knew, Jon Snow was well fed, had earned glory at the Wall fighting wildlings and had a brothel full of whores to visit in Molestown every night. By what right did he have to be so miserable?

 _Envy_.

That bitter tasting poison that Jaime tried to spit back out on the rare occasions that Robert still visited Cersei's bed in some drunken display of possessiveness. He saw it on the bastard Snow's face as Joffrey and Robb Stark were cheered and applauded for their skill with the blade. Snow was better than them, he was one of the best Jaime had ever seen but he lost on purpose...because he knew his place...and oh how much that must rankle.

The fire crackled and spit sparks, Bronn and the Cassels sang a bawdy tune, swaying near the hanging boar carcasses that dripped blood onto the dusty wooden planks. Two adults and two piglets, all slain by Robert, Gilbert Cressey and the Greyjoy boy and sent by the Gods themselves to end this wretched hunt so that Jaime could return to Winterfell and Cersei. He missed her glacial glares that hid the fire within and thinking about her soft body made him warmer that the fire ever could.

The night dragged on and Robert drifted from jovial to maudlin, as so often with Robert these days he drank to forget his brother but then he drank so much he could do nothing but remember Stannis.

"There's no greater curse than killing your own kin. That's what the old gods say, isn't it?" Robert laughed darkly, staring in the fire with disgust. "Kinslayer...that’s what they call me behind my back"

"You had no choice, it was justice." Stark reminded him.

Justice, Jaime had a hard time not laughing. Was it justice to kill the servants too?

"She was an ugly girl Shireen, the Gods were not kind giving her both greyscale and such ugly parents. She had my mother's eyes though and she looked a damn sight more Baratheon than any of mine do." He growled bitterly "Stannis kept her away; sheltered in Dragonstone - _protected from the hedonism at court._ " he sneered "She needed protection from her own father."

Of that Jaime could only agree and he found himself nodding alongside Ned Stark.

"I only saw her twice, once when she was a squalling babe, before the greyscale hit her - I thought she'd die like all the rest of Selyse's spawn. Then again years later, Stannis brought her to my name day tournament. As ugly as the Hound but as sweet as a soft kitten, she gave me a book, one she'd written herself blessed child." He chuckled fondly "It was only ten pages long - _The Chronicles of Ser Scarecrow._ " His laugh rumbled along, dying out before he became drawn and depressed once more.

Jaime remembered that too, it had been a barely three moons before the War Beyond the Wall. Stannis came back from that war a different man, ranting and raving about dead things that walk in the night, claiming to have seen the Others before him. He raved about things only a scare few of the men that came back with him could support - whether out of duty to Stannis or wartime madness Jaime did not know.

The dutiful second son had stood in the Throne Room before his brother and declared that the Others would overrun Westeros and if Robert did not fight them he was no true King. The idiot argued for an alliance with wildlings.

Fool, did he really think Robert would believe his word over the Starks who had seen hide nor hair of such creatures? Did he really believe that Robert would ally himself with the murderers of Benjen Stark, a man Robert would have gladly taken for his own brother instead of Stannis?

"He took up arms against me Ned." Robert growled "Called banners from the Stormlands to gather at Dragonstone. He claimed he meant to sale North, to the Wall but the Spider whispered that he plotted to take Kings Landing. Jon Arryn told me to put him under guard on Dragonstone." He laughed darkly "I should have taken his head there and then."

"It was the Red Witch that did it, she poisoned his thoughts. She told him that if he burned my niece her Red God would make him King." He growled angrily.

"He wasn't well at the end of the war." Ned said quietly "Wartime madness. War changed him...it changes us all."

"Aye but the rest of us don't burn children alive!" Robert cried slamming his horn of ale down so it splashed over the fur covered bench.

"I should have done it myself. I should have swung the blade that cut off Stannis's head myself." Robert slurred "I should have cut every man and woman down in that castle instead of leaving it to the Kingslayer, the Mountain and Meryn fucking Trant."

"You gave the order to kill the servants?" Ned asked quietly surprised. Had he deluded himself into thinking that the nasty Kingslayer was responsible for the servants' deaths instead of his great King?

"Aye and I'd do it again. Every soul on that island deserved to die. They earned their deaths by standing by and letting my niece burn." Robert growled.

Jaime wished he could enjoy the disappointment and horror seeping into Ned Stark's face but all he could hear were the screams of the maids as he skewered them cleanly with his sword, the pleading of the stable boys and thuds of the Clegane's boots as he rode them down and butchered them. The blood bath of the kitchens where Trant and his men hacked and hacked at bodies until they were but chunks of meat.

They found Selyse hanging from the battlements as they sailed into harbour, dead by her own hand. Jaime had killed Stannis himself, of that death he felt no guilt. Stannis was a warrior and had accepted he must die. The chimney boys were young though, their white bloodless faces haunted his dreams sometimes.

All had died, all but the Red Woman and the Onion Knight. Stannis's two most loyal supporters had abandoned him in his last most desperate hour.

"Did you enjoy killing them Kingslayer?" Robert called to him, taunting him.

"As much as I enjoy killing any peasant." Jaime replied dryly, ambiguous enough to avoid seeming insolent.

Robert grunted and called the same question to the Trant who sat a little way from them but still listening "What about you Trant - did you like it?" He challenged.

"Aye" Trant replied "Killing is the best of my King's commands."

Ned Stark looked like he was going to be sick.

_If Stannis had wanted to slay monsters, he should have stayed in Kings Landing._

* * *

The journey back to Winterfell was miserable. The party was tired after a sennight of almost continuous hunting and there was a certain sluggishness in the men and horses that sloped through the Wolfswood. Dark clouds crawled across the sky dimming daylight between the fir tree canopy and snow began to fall.

"Take an axe to my leg if the King decides to hunt again." The Hound grumbled, like the others snowflakes had fallen in his hair and his lips were going blue.

"A legless dog, now there's a sight." Jaime chuckled "Robert will not want to journey out again, he's got his dead boars to prove his manhood. Besides a storm is coming."

"A storm Kingslayer?" Theon Greyjoy rode up alongside them with laughing eyes and a mocking tone "It's a mere flurry, but no worries you shall be safe in Winterfell's walls before it gets too cold" Jaime and Clegane glared at him.

"Snow! What are you doing?" Greyjoy shouted, further ahead on the path, Stark's bastard had stopped to pick walnuts from a tree and store them in his saddlebag "Do we not feed you well enough at Winterfell? You're not at the Wall now, there's no need to scavenge like a peasant."

"You think I'll eat from that kitchen after what you've done in there with the scullery maids." Snow shot back.

Greyjoy laughed and charged him, the two youths galloped off further up the path.

Why did it always seem as though young energetic men ended up with young energetic horses?

Jaime was approaching his fifth decade, were he a peasant he could only expect a scant few more years but his father would soon be sixty and his great grandfather had lived to five and seventy.

What more did he have look forward to on this earth but getting older and slower and serving an increasingly brutal King. He thought of the Targaryen babes, he had not cared of Robert's reaction to their murders then, maybe Robert had always been brutal and it was Jaime who was getting soft. Those chimney boys, how old had they been - seven, eight? Even Jon Arryn had been horrified of the slaughter of the servants at Dragonstone, he had almost left for the Vale but was too scared to leave his Robert alone to his own devices.

It seemed to be Jaime's fate to serve murderous kings and he doubted Joffrey would be much better. Rhaegar surely would have turned cruel in his later years - that's what he told himself when he thought of the Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys. There was cruelty and madness in the dragon's blood and the world was better off with them dead.

Besides there were other things to look forward to in his later years. Eventually his goodsister would have to start breeding and he would have the entertainment of watching Tyrion tackle fatherhood. And then there was Cersei; beautiful, thrumming with life Cersei, to sink into and banish the taunts of the dead...his blood heated and he spurred his horse forwards.

* * *

Jaime was half hard when he stormed through Great Keep to Cersei's chambers. He wrenched open the door more forcefully that he should and was struck dumb in the doorway by the sight.

Cersei was reclining on a daybed covered in mink next to a great blazing hearth that was taller than a man. The scarlett and golden light danced across her beautiful skin casting shadows on her clavicle from the emeralds she was draped in. Emeralds like her sharp bewitching green eyes, so like his own, which darkened when she saw Jaime. Her bosom heaved and Jaime longed to rip away the jade corset that constrained her teats and bury his face in them.

"Leave, now." She ordered the harpist and lady in waiting "I'm bored of you and need to speak to my brother."

It took longer than Jaime liked for the harpist to lug his great instrument out of the room. When the door was shut and they were alone, Jaime launched himself on his twin and kissed her long and deeply, determined to devour her.

Cersei pushed at his doublet "Ergh...you smell like a wet boar."

"I have been in the Wolfswood for five days." Jaime muttered frantically kissing her neck. "You should never have sent me on that godforsaken trip. Five days is too long without you."

"Enough…" Stronger, she pushed him away. Unwilling to let go completely Jaime retained touch of her waist, the satin smooth under his coarse numb hands "How was Joffrey, did he behave?"

 _Joffrey_...his bastard son had been usurping Cersei's attention ever since he was born. "Joff played the part of Aemon the Dragonknight to miserable old Ned."

Cersei practically purred "Good." But there was still a distraction in her eye that signaled that this continued to occupy her thoughts.

"There is no need for worry. Lord Stark will never deny the King his daughter's hand." Jaime said.

Cersei looked at him pityingly as though he were a simpleton "And what if darling little Sansa decides to go spreading lies to her father?"

 _Lies or truths, which worries you most sweet sister_?

Jaime laughed "Sansa is scared of her own shadow, surely you are not so terrified of our little goodsister."

Cersei looked at him crossly and got up from the daybed, removing herself from his touch, "You underestimate her, both you and Tyrion. She is not so meek and mild as she pretends" Cersei poured more wine for herself "I believe she has a lover."

Jaime snorted in disbelief "Nonsense, the girl has no thoughts in her head other than what her septa put there" Cersei glared at him with the sharpness of a hundred knives "Why are you so in favour of this betrothal anyway? They say here that Arya Stark has the look of her Aunt Lyanna."

Jealously flared up in Cersei's face but she said airily "Robert will have drunk himself to death before that little girl flowers into anything comely."

"You hate the Starks."

Cersei shot him a look of censure "You are such a fool. We can control the Starks; we have Sansa and Father has Lord Stark's debt. Besides who would you have him wed? The Martell girl?" She laughed scornfully "We would all be dead before the bedding. Or perhaps the Tyrell girl and my grandchildren can be half royal, half steward? At least the Starks were once kings of this wasteland."

"Surely you were not insulting my little wife's homeland dear sister." At that moment Tyrion entered the room and helped himself to some wine.

Cersei curled her lip and could not restrain rolling her eyes, Jaime, however was pleased to see his little brother after five days with nothing but thuggish northerners for company.

"Welcome back brother, I assume the hunting trip was a success?"

"If you call sleeping in the dirt for five days a success?"

"The King appears happy at least, he was practically fornicating with the boars hanging in the Great Hall." Tyrion quipped.

Jaime smirked derisively "Proof of his manhood."

Tyrion laughed and Cersei curled her lip once more.

"Don't tell me you have actually grown fond of these frozen moors and this collapsing castle" She sneered.

"Though it seems to be falling down around the Starks, I'm actually starting to find Winterfell quite fascinating. They say the castle is warmed by a dragon hidden in it's depths." Jaime snorted at his brother "And Maester Luwin's library is very well stocked, almost as good as the Red Keep."

"Well then maybe you should stay here when we return to Kings Landing?" Cersei suggested in a saccharine sweet voice.

"And live off that pisswater they call ale here - don't be absurd!" Tyrion said swigging down more wine, Jaime appeared to be the only member of his immediate family without a red nose of copious wine consumption "Sansa and I shall depart just as soon as I've seen the Wall. I belong in lands where wine can be easily bought."

"Like the Free Cities?" Cersei's suggestion was made lightly but it seemed to hold greater significance than Jaime understood. His brother and sister exchanged a strange look during which Cersei's eyes flashed triumphantly and Tyrion seemed almost unnerved.

"Come, come, Cersei" He replied in a casual tone that would have fooled anyone but Jaime "We both know that my siblings would miss me if I crossed the Narrow Sea."

There was a pregnant pause during which the two stared off at each other and Jaime felt increasingly stupid.

It was Tyrion who backed down first "Come, we shall be late for the feast - that's why I disturbed you both. It is time to drink pisswater ale and eat Robert's boars."

**Sansa**

"Please would you be able to play _The Maids that Bloom in Spring_?" Sansa asked the singer Abel offering him a piece of carrot cake as an incentive.

"For the flower of the North and a slice of cake - how could I refuse" Abel responded gallantly. Sansa preferred this Northern singer, he was not as polished as some of the other singers but he was not bawdy like Moon Boy nor did he leer at her like Lady Lysa's singer Marillion. And unlike the Princess Myrcella's singers, he accepted requests.

There was something in his voice though...

Sansa hummed along to the tune as she edged round the dancers, the feast was in full flux and Winterfell was merry from the return of the hunting party and the three boar that hung triumphantly in the Great Hall. From all she had heard Winterfell had not had boar for two years.

She felt the eyes of Joffrey upon her from where he sat next to his father on the dias. It unnerved her so much that she drifted into the dancing and was almost knocked down by Bran and Rosamund Lannister.

"Sorry Sansa." Bran called. Sansa gave him a sweet smile.

 _Ignore him, he can't hurt you anymore_.

Memories of her Uncle Arryn telling her she was stronger than she thought came to her mind and Sansa felt a wave of sadness. She painted on a smile and sat down next to Robb and Theon.

"Why are the two of you not dancing?" she scolded them mockingly "Robb, you should ask Princess Myrcella to dance"

"I already danced with her not half an hour ago." Robb laughed "If I do so again people will start to get ideas, besides she is occupied with Bran."

Sansa pouted "Well then Theon must dance with Kitty. You know she likes you and it is cruel to ignore her so much."

Theon looked shocked "I do? Your maid has taken a liking to me?" Sansa could not blame him for his surprise, Kitty was a veritable statue that showed little emotion and no preference.

"Of course you do, don't play the fool." Sansa teased "She is half in love with you already."

Theon practically preened.

"Be kind and dance with her at least once." She urged.

Theon grinned "Well honour does forbid me from being cruel and who am I to deny the whims of my Lady Sansa." And to Sansa's satisfaction, he kissed her hand and got up in search of Kitty.

"Be careful around Theon." Robb warned her quietly once Theon was out of hearing range. "And warn your maids not to encourage him too much. He's not the honourable knights of your songs."

Sansa smiled, appreciative of Robb's concern "I know that. Kitty and I lived in Kings Landing for three years. We have met men like Theon before and men much worse too."

Robb looked even more concerned now "What kind of men?" he pressed.

"Just men" Sansa replied, regretting her words and she placed a comforting hand on his "You don't have to worry. I know that the rest of the world is not like Winterfell but Tyrion can protect me and I'm not as foolish as I once was."

Robb snorted "I don’t know how much I trust a dwarf to protect you from the horrors of this world." Sansa felt a prickle of irritation at this comment "I should never have left you in that lion's den."

"But then the North would have starved." Sansa reminded him and he flushed somewhat with shame which wasn't as pleasing to Sansa as she would have liked "Enough of this, tell me about the tourney?"

Robb perked up at this and told her of the events he had planned and the nobles they had invited. As he talked Sansa's eyes drifted around the room and she realised Jon was not at the feast. She fleetingly wondered if he was with Osha but then spotted the wildling woman was engaged in some sort of drinking competition with Gage the cook. Jon didn't seem to like feasts and Sansa pictured him sadly eating alone in his room, she had a sudden urge to go join him.

Robb and Sansa were interrupted by her husband, who waddled up to the table and asked to speak to Sansa in a tone that indicated he very much wished to do so alone. Sansa looked at Robb pleadingly.

"Very well." Her brother rolled his eyes but not before shooting a disdainful look at Tyrion "I suppose I should rescue mother from Ser Rodrik."

Sansa watched him move to the dancefloor to dance with their mother. Rickon was now dancing with Princess Myrcella and nearby Theon was dancing with a very wooden Kitty.

Tyrion lifted himself onto the bench beside her looking very grave. Sansa's insides sank, she knew that look.

"Cersei knows." He whispered.

"That we are going to the Free…"

"Yes, yes, sh, sh." Tyrion hushed her, looking around nervously "Did you tell anyone?"

"No!" Sansa cried, the thought of such news getting back to Joffrey... _he would stop it, he wouldn't let me go_. How did Cersei find out, Sansa and Tyrion had kept their plans for after Winterfell a secret between only themselves.

"Well she found out somehow." Tyrion said with an edge that suggested he didn't quite believe her.

"I didn't tell anyone." Sansa hissed, wondering if she had been so stupid as to somehow let the secret go without being aware of it.

"Very well" Tyrion conceded before pondering "Maybe she guessed, gods know I'd be a fool to keep you in Kings Landing after what happened."

"Wi...will she stop us?" Sansa asked fearfully.

Tyrion bit his lip thoughtfully "I don't know, possibly not. She will have to balance her desire to hurt me with her desire to get rid of me. But then again she may not want Joffrey's behaviour to continue - it is hardly princely and if _people_ were to find out."

People like her father, who would cause trouble, or people like the Tyrells when everyone expected Margaery would soon be a princess. The Queen would not want Joffrey's behaviour known if they were trying to convince the rich Lord Tyrell to agree to a betrothal. Not that the Tyrells would need much convincing in that regard.

Tyrion still seemed unconvinced that Sansa had not spoken to anyone and spent several more minutes warning her to be careful, not to give any hints of their plans, even round her family. Afterwards she felt uneasy and worried about staying at the feast with a drinking Joffrey, so she returned to her rooms.

She couldn't return to Kings Landing, she just couldn't! Even if her father were to become Hand it was still too hellish, Lord Stark could not protect her and everywhere she looked she would see reminders of her Uncle Arryn and Podrick.

Not that the Free Cities would be much better, she'd be just as isolated, perhaps even more alone in a foreign land with only Tyrion and their servants for company. But at least it would be safe.

She turned into the hallway where her chambers were and saw a dark figure leaning against the wall outside her room.

It was Jon.

He smiled at her, his shaggy black hair even more unkempt after five days in the woods and he eating walnuts out of a pouch.

"Hungry?" He offered her the pouch and Sansa took one feeling warm inside.

She smiled back at Jon and invited him inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think so far? All criticism (both positive and negative) is welcome.


	9. Crow, it rhymes with snow

**Sansa**

"Sansa...Sansa!"

Sansa was walking back from the rookery with Shae the next morning when Nelly Poole called her excitedly from walkway that overlooked the training yard, a group of young squires had crowded at the fence below shielding the yard from view. Sansa and Shae joined Nelly and the other highborn ladies on the walkway.

"Robb is going to fight the Hound." Nelly squeaked as though it was the single most exciting thing that had ever happened at Winterfell.

"Indeed?" Sansa couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

"He's so brave" sighed Princess Myrcella.

"He's an idiot." Arya scoffed "The Hound will chop him in two, look at the size of him!"

Down in the training yard Clegane and her brother were circling each other, both wary to make the first strike. Even from three paces away, the Hound cast a long shadow that shrouded Robb in shade, he was as thick as two Robbs standing next to each other and his hands were as large as dinner plates wrapped around an old stained great sword.

The usual air of disinterest hung in the Sandor's eyes while by contrast Robb was dancing on his feet, full of determination and daring.

"Maybe not" Sansa said quietly and to explain herself from the incredulous looks of the other girls added "Robb fought well in the War Beyond the Wall and the Hound is getting old."

Arya snorted as looked at her as though it was the stupidest thing she had ever said. Even Nymeria, at her feet, gave Sansa a withering glare.

A hush of tension washed over the yard below, Robb stepped forward and brought his sword against Sandor's and they began to spar. Sansa recalled memories of watching Harry fight in the Red Keep, trying to beat back knights of older years and greater experience. His armour had gleamed in the Kings Landing sun and at the end of a fight he would tip a pail of cold water over himself and then meet her eyes, where she stood in the gallery, with a heated look that made her shiver. She had felt overcome in Harry's presence at times but apart she now felt a little empty at the thought of him.

"My father always says only a fool would fight a Clegane in single combat." Rosamund Lannister said in hushed tones "But at least Robb's not facing the Mountain, then he would have no chance." She then explained who the Mountain was to Beth Cassel and Nelly Poole, as though both had not already heard the stories "He is not as big as the Mountain, is he Sansa?"

Sansa shook her head. _And not nearly so cruel._ She had been terrified of Gregor Clegane whilst at Casterly Rock, the stench of death and torture followed him round like the Stranger. Still, the Mountain was kept on a tight leash by her goodfather, nobody could _truly_ control Joffrey.

"I hope Robb will win." The Princess said softly "Not that I don't like the Hound, only Robb is so…"

 _Like what a knight ought to be_ , Sansa thought and it struck her that the two men who fought below were possibly two of the most knightly men she had ever know despite neither actually taking vows. _I must be sure never to tell Sandor that_.

"And if Robb wins, he may stay in the yard longer and we can look at him more." Shae said causing Rosamund and Beth to giggle.

Arya rolled her eyes in derision and leaned further forward on the balcony, dirtying her dress on the wood wet with icy slush. Swords clanged below and Robb and the Hound made frequent unpleasant grunts. Sansa wasn't quite sure what was going on or who was winning but suddenly everybody was straining forwards on tenterhooks and the Hound fell to his knees yielding.

"He lost on purpose!" Arya cried outraged but nobody paid attention to her.

"Well done Robb!" Nelly called out and Princess Myrcella was beaming and clapping hard as Robb took sweeping pleased bows to his audience.

Arya meanwhile was trying to convince Beth that the Hound had deliberately missed two opportunities to cut Robb down. _Did she really think that a man as lowborn as the Hound would embarrass Lord Stark's heir, in Winterfell, for the sake of a mere sparring session?_

Sansa clapped politely with the others, pleased at least that Robb took so much pleasure out of the victory, when her eyes abruptly met Jon's in the crowd of men below. He nodded his head towards the First Keep and she slipped away from the other highborn girls to follow him.

* * *

Osha was waiting for them in the derelict building. The door creaked as Jon closed it and the base of the tower was shrouded in darkness, the windows having been boarded up centuries ago when the glass was broken and never replaced.

"What is it?" Sansa asked.

Osha bounced Dallan on her hip, the little wildling prince was asleep on her shoulder sucking his thumb. Osha looked at Jon.

"Go ahead, tell her." Jon said seriously and anticipation welled up inside Sansa.

"It's your maid Shae...you know the foreign one." Osha began bluntly "She's been sneaking about with your husband."

"Oh" Sansa said disappointed. She had been disappointed before when Osha had first named Shae instead of Kitty and after a sennight she was being told something she already knew.

Jon put his hand on Sansa's shoulder as though trying to comfort her "Are you well?" He asked, taking her silence for hurt "Would you like to sit down?"

Sansa wondered where he thought she should sit in this dusty ruin "I am well" She smiled deliberately as though to prove it "Do not worry, I already knew Shae was Tyrion's mistress."

"You _knew_ he was dishonouring you?" Jon frowned "With a member of your very own household?"

"What does it matter?" Osha shrugged "The dwarf is twice her age and as ugly as a boar's backside. She doesn't want him, she should be glad if he's sticking his cock elsewhere."

 _"Osha!"_ Jon hissed _"_ It's not about that, its about the vows that Tyrion made to his gods. It's about Sansa's honour and dignity." He explained testily "If people found out, it would humiliate Sansa."

"I already am humiliated. I've been a joke for years" Sansa replied listlessly "The beauty sold to the Imp because her father was so desperate for coin. They already laugh at us in Kings Landing. They laugh Tyrion for his shortness, they laugh at me for being poor and of the First Men. They laugh at us for looking so mismatched."

Jon swallowed uncomfortably and she wondered how many people had laughed at him too - the bastard boy of Lord Stark who had been sent to the Wall so young.

"There are worse things than laughter" Osha said darkly.

Sansa nodded.

"Shae isn't the one I want gone. Kitty is."

"The uptight golden haired one?"

Sansa nodded "She already spies on me for my goodfather and I think she's telling things to the Queen." It was the only explanation she had for Cersei knowing of their plans to go to the Free Cites. Kitty must have eavesdropped on Tyrion and Sansa talking and relayed the news. With Tywin far away, maybe she sought to sell her services to the Queen as well. One Lannister was the same as another Lannister.

"But I need evidence before I can get rid of her."

Osha nodded.

"Be careful Osha, if you are caught spying on the Queen we won't be able to protect you." Jon warned bringing guilt to Sansa who had not thought what position she was putting the wildling woman in.

Osha smirked "Don't worry about me, servants are practically invisible in the eyes of those southern lot."

"Not as invisible as you might believe, the Lannisters are more used to being spied on than House Stark. They know the value and danger of a well placed servant." Sansa warned "Jon's right, you will need to be careful...Cersei is dangerous"

"I'm beginning to think you care m'lady." Osha teased mockingly, Sansa opened her mouth to chide her in to taking this seriously but Osha beat her to it "I know, I know, hunt her like she's an shadowcat on a glacier at full moon."

This analogy was completely lost on Sansa but it seemed to satisfy Jon who translated "She’ll be careful."

Still, as Osha left the First Keep, Sansa couldn't help feel extremely uneasy and tense at the thought of setting a spy on the Queen herself.

"I apologise for Osha" Jon said once she'd gone "She's...wildings have their own set of manners."

"Oh, they have manners?" Sansa asked in mock innocence.

Jon rose an eyebrow "Of a sort, they act dogs and are blunt to the point of rudeness but they still live by a code." He couldn't hide his admiration for them.

"She reminds me of Arya." Sansa said casually and Jon laughed "No wonder you like her."

"I don’t like her, she had mother's milk when Dalla died, that is all." Jon said.

"Dalla?"

"Dallan's mother"

"You respect her," Sansa said speaking of Osha rather than the late wilding queen and Jon shrugged. She had a sudden urge to ask Jon if he respected _her_ but wasn't sure if she wanted to hear his answer. Sansa had never climbed the Mountains of the Thenn or caught a wild rabbit, skinned and cooked it over an open fire. Northern men like Jon were not impressed by embroidery or writing lots of letters.

Jon stepped forward into a shard of daylight that broke through the boarded windows. The dust in the air floated around him like a thousand golden insects and he said to her kindly "Sansa, you're not a joke"

She sighed "I know what people think of me Jon. A silly stupid girl with silly stupid dreams, only good for useless frivolities like embroidery or playing the harp...They're right, I've lived my life dreaming and look where its gotten me."

"Married to a clever man who you respect, even if you do not love. Correspondent with half the ladies in the realm." Jon chuckled lowly "Sansa, you know that Osha is a wildling. As far as I am concerned that makes you the most dangerous person in this castle, not exactly a silly stupid girl."

Sansa felt her chest fill with warmth at his words "I don't know why you are so insistent on keeping her a secret. Mance Rayder may be father's enemy but an ordinary wildling woman is not. He would understand that you had no choice but to bring her back. Father wouldn't punish her for following her King, he would probably respect her for it."

"Aye, he probably would" Jon agreed "And then he'd send her on her way and she'd be alone in the North with no home and no employment in winter."

"Father wouldn't be so cruel." Sansa argued

Jon looked away "He wouldn't see it as cruelty but necessity. Lord Stark is a different man when he rules the North...he's not Father anymore. He listens to his bannermen and his King, not his children and wildling women."

"You're being too hard on him."

"Maybe I am" Jon said "Maybe I don't want to risk Osha's livelihood on the possibility of father's mercy...sometimes the right way isn't always the honourable way."

Sansa's gaze dropped to the ground and she thought of Tyrion who dishonoured her but by doing so hurt no-one and kept out of her bed. She thought of Podrick, who had done the honourable thing and been killed for it.

Sansa nodded and tucked a strand of hair behind her ears "Do you ever wish we could go back to a time before we knew that was true?"

Jon smiled sadly "Every day."

They left the First Keep separately so as not to attract attention. Jon let Sansa go first and when she stepped back out into the courtyard it had began to snow.

* * *

The white winds of winter blew and the snow fell over the next few days. It was not a storm yet not quite not a storm either as snow drifts filled the courtyards and piled up against windowsills. The men and boys did not go out to spar and the ladies shunned their afternoon walks.

Inside the castle the triumph and jubilation in the aftermath of the King's hunt had settled into a contented atmosphere that settled around the castle as its inhabitants sat round fires and took comfort in the fact that there still appeared to be wild boar living in the Wolfswood.

Even Tyrion appeared to be happier. Days had past and Cersei showed no sign of revealing their plans to journey to the Free Cities and Tyrion did not believe his sister had the patience to sit on such information if she planned to do anything about it. He thought she was willing to suffer their freedom if it meant she never had to see her dwarf brother again.

Sansa was not so sure. The worry of Cersei hung about her joining with the fear of Joffrey that had been wrapped tightly around her like a shroud for years now.

Sometimes it felt like it choked her, other times, like her evenings with Jon, the weight would unexplainably lift and she felt like she could breathe again.

"Hold still" Sansa said with pins in her mouth.

"I am holding still" Jon grumbled. His arm stuck out by his sides as Sansa carried out the first fitting of his shirt. She had found herself blushing earlier as he had taken off his own shirt to put on her creation. The silk rippled over his torso like black molten gold, shining in the candlelight, the way it fell over his broad shoulders and chest felt almost too intimate for a half sister to see.

Sansa focused herself on the seems and Jon talked little, she supposed as to not distract her from her task. All that could be heard was the crackling of the fire and Jon's breathing. Every now and then, he twitched and sucked in a breath and Sansa apologised, assuming that she had pricked him with one of the pins when her fingers brushed up against his body.

"Um...how go your plans for Kitty?" Jon asked, on the fourth occasion that this happened.

Sansa felt relieved of the conversation but annoyed at the subject. Kitty was behaving like an ice maiden in Theon Greyjoy's presence which had led to him more or less giving up the pursuit that Sansa had encouraged.

She gave an almighty huff "Ever since I returned to Winterfell, people have not stopped telling me what a degenerate Theon is. But he can't even seduce one deceiving ladies maid."

Jon laughed "He's learnt to be careful. Lord Stark was not kind to him after what happened with Jeyne Poole. Theon says he only goes to whores now"

Sansa wondered if Jon ever went to whores. She hoped he didn't, she hoped both he and Robb had too much honour for such behaviour. She knew that the three young men would sometimes visit the tavern in Wintertown but Jon would usually come to her chambers afterwards.

He visited her in her chambers most evenings now, sometimes early, straight after dinner but sometimes later. They never spoke of the secrecy of what they were doing. In her head Sansa told herself she wished to protect her mother from any sense of betrayal that she now allied herself with Jon but on some deeper level she was becoming uncomfortably aware that it was strange for a grown brother and sister to hide away in chambers alone late into the night. And for the brother to sneak out once everyone else had gone to sleep.

They sat by the fire while Sansa sewed or wrote, sometimes Jon would clean his blade or write a letter of his own. They talked of their days, gossip they had heard, life north and south of the Wall and the people they had met in their travels. They tried to outdo each other with the oddities of the places they had visited with Jon countering Sansa's Crakehall Castle with his own tales of the practices of the Antler River wildlings.

He was nothing like men she had met in the south and while he seemed Northern, there was something other about him as well. Maybe it was spending so much time beyond the Wall, among the wildlings, that gave him this otherness. He also smelled like pine and fresh snow as she discovered when she fitted his shirt. It was...pleasant.

When she had finished the fitting, Sansa turned round so Jon could get changed and she tried not to listen to the rustle of clothes.

It was growing late but once Jon was dressed, they took their usual positions by the fire anyway. Sansa picked up the black silk shirt and started reworking the seams from where she had placed pins.

Jon, meanwhile, took out his own parchment and began writing a letter. As she worked, Sansa watched him, his brow furrowing in concentration. He was writing carefully, working with a small well worn square of parchment with three lines of letters. The first letter was the alphabet and the latter two lines were jumbled mixed up letters with at leased two symbols that doubled as alternatives to letters.

"That's a Yunkai shift cipher" Sansa said.

Jon stilled momentarily on realisation that she was looking at his work before nodding "Hmm" and carried on writing.

She couldn't read his words, Jon appeared practiced enough with the code that he could write directly in it without needing to write out the original in the Common Tongue first.

"Margaery Tyrell uses a Yunkai shift cipher for her letters. It takes forever to decipher them, I've told her it's unnecessary."

"I doubt Lady Margaery is writing of food stores and supply chains to a region that is desperately starved." Jon said "The man who holds food in winter is King."

That was one of father's sayings "No, but Margaery Tyrell isn't surrounded by illiterate smallfolk and wildlings. How many of your brothers can carry out Runciter's law? How many can read or count for that matter?"

Jon smirked to himself and she knew he thought she was being overly snobbish "Mance Rayder can both read and decipher a standard shift code."

Sansa leaned back, pausing in her sewing "The way people talk about him...raising the dead, living in ice…" She said almost talking to herself "It's like they can't decide if he's some kind of god or beast."

"No mortal man can raise the dead" Jon said "Rayder is just a rebel. He may be cleverer and more cunning than most but he's still only a man"

"You almost sound as if you admire him."

"His army would have wrought devastation on the North if they had broken through. Why would I admire him?" Jon asked, his concentration seemingly focused on his letter.

"I don't know but you do." Sansa said simply.

Jon stayed silent and carried on working. The candles over the mantelpiece dribbled cream wax onto the smooth grey stone. The castle around them was silent, it was late. It had been late when Jon had arrive earlier, coming as he did after being taken by Robb and Theon to Wintertown. Everybody would be in their own chambers by now but Jon was still here. _I don’t want him to go_ thought Sansa.

"What's that?" She pointed to one of the symbols used in the letter that looked sort of like a wonky cross.

"It's a crow" Jon explained. Sansa frowned, it looked nothing like a crow. Her expression must have revealed her thoughts for Jon added "I know, but we can't all have your artistic talent."

Sansa stuck her tongue out at him and Jon's eyes filled with mirth "Why are you using a crow?"

"Crows are what the wildlings call us, because we wear all black and sit up high in the sky on the Wall". Jon looked up at her through his eyelashes, they were black and thick, his quill was paused.

"That's fitting" Sansa mused "Crow, it rhymes with Snow."

"Huh...you're the first person to spot that." Jon smirked again.

Sansa shot him a pretend glare "Don't be smart" She said primly and he chuckled.

Jon leaned back in his chair, evidently resting his work for the moment. He rested his gaze on Sansa, in the firelight his eyes were so dark grey they were almost black.

"Would you like me to take your letter to the rookery tomorrow?" Sansa asked "I have my own letters to deliver anyway."

Jon smiled "No, I don't trust you. You'll try to decipher it."

Sansa pouted "Don’t be silly. It would take moons to decipher Yunkai shift and you know I was never any good at numbers."

Jon shrugged "You weren’t terrible at numbers."

It wouldn't take moons, knowing the letter was written in a Yunkai Shift cipher was more than half the battle. She would just need to divide up the letters and apply Runciter's law. She made a pleading look.

Jon merely laughed "No."

"Very well. I only wished to help you." Sansa said "I know you will have get up terribly early to journey to Long Lake. I thought to save you some time."

She spoke truthfully, the idea of deciphering Jon's letter hadn't occurred to her and now that it had...she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know it's secrets.

"That is very thoughtful. But you will be waking early too and from the looks of it you haven’t even packed yet." Jon suddenly looked guilty "Am I disturbing you? I can go."

He was almost half out of his seat before Sansa could say"No, I...please there is no need" She had thought he knew "I'm not going to Long Lake."

Jon frowned in confusion "You're not?"

"No...I…" Sansa said stiltedly, she had honestly though he knew "I'm married." She explained.

"What's that got to do with anything?" Jon asked, he almost sounded disappointed and Sansa felt a flush of warmth. The truth was she hadn't even been asked to go on Bran's Long Lake expedition with the other young noble persons. She wasn't young anymore, she was married.

"It would be...indelicate." Sansa explained awkwardly "To take a journey without my husband where unmarried men are present."

"But Arya and the Princess are going." Jon pointed out.

"That's different, they'll have their septas and maids to chaperone and protect their virtue." Jon went faintly red at this, presumably the thought of Arya's virtue being under threat had never occurred to him.

"You have maids."

"It's still different." Sansa protested, wondering why he was insisting on debating the matter.

"I don’t see how" Jon argued.

"I…" She started in frustration, how could she explain to him that this was just how things were done. That at the age of six and ten she wasn't even young anymore, she was just a wife "It just is."

"It seems stupid to me." Jon muttered but went back to his letter.

"That's because you are not familiar with proper etiquette" Sansa said under breath but she could tell he heard her for he stiffened at her words.

"Whatever, I’ll bring you back a fish" was all his response.

* * *

Sansa awoke early the next day to send off her letters and bid farewell to the Long Lake party. The sun had barely risen and yet the courtyard outside was bustling with noise as servants packed up the carts and horses.

The hallways near the rookery were quiet, no-one in that part of the castle had cause to rise at such an hour. Sansa dearly wanted to join them in sleep, she was tired after staying up late with Jon and dreamed about going back to bed once she had said goodbye to her brothers and sister. She took the last of her letters requesting aid for the Night's Watch to the rookery and watched as the last of the ravens disappeared into the tender grey sky of early morning.

"Sansa" a voice made her blood run cold as she walked back from the rookery. It was the prince. And the corridor was deserted "Have you come wish me farewell?"

"You grace" Sansa dropped a small curtsey before walking quickly in the hope of escaping.

"Where are you going? I haven't dismissed you yet" Joffrey grabbed her painfully by the arm as she attempted to pass. He pushed her up against a wall and sneered cruelly at her "You've been avoiding me fair aunt."

"Please your grace" Sansa whimpered as she fruitlessly attempted to push him away. "You will be late."

"I am the Crown Prince, I am never late" Joffrey hissed "And I have grown sick of you denying me."

He reached down and started bunching up her skirts. Panicking and full of fear, Sansa tried to stop him but he slapped her.

"Please, no…"

"I am your prince. You will not deny me!" Joffrey ordered, pointing and angry finger in her face. He then slammed her body back against the stone wall painfully.

Sansa closed her teary eyes and prayed someone would come upon them. _Let Jon come or Tyrion or the Hound._

_Thud!_

"OW!"

Sansa opened her eyes to see Joffrey rubbing his head and glaring down at a fat candle that lay cracked on the floor. The corridor was appeared empty but for the two of them.

"Who's there?" Joffrey demanded, drawing his sword "Who dares strike their prince?!"

Sansa forgotten, he charged round the corner in search of his assailant. Sansa smoothed her dress and followed tentatively, watching him round another corner and disappear from sight.

"Stupid little shit, isn't he?" a man spoke behind her.

Sansa jumped and held a hand to her racing heart. It was Abel the Northern singer who had just appeared from behind a nearby tapestry.

"You shouldn't have done that." Sansa said in a watery voice.

Abel raised an unconcerned eyebrow "You'd rather be raped?"

Sansa flinched, she knew that's what Joffrey wanted, what he planned to do as soon as he got the opportunity. He had been working up to it for years...but to hear the words.

"Joffrey has killed people for less. If he finds out...they'll be no saving you."

Abel chuckled "I've fought worse than him m'lady."

Sansa wrapped her arms round her body "There is no-one worse than him" she said quietly.

The singer frowned and looked at her with worry "You should speak to your father my lady, or one of your brothers. Prince or not, they would not stand for this."

Sansa's gaze drifted to a nearby window, there was a light layer of frost on the outside sill. She remembered Podrick and his innocent eyes.

"Don't you know what happens to Stark men who call out princes?" she asked eventually

He did not answer, so Sansa continued.

"They die."

Abel bowed his head in acknowledgement of her reasoning but his eyes were hard as though he strongly disagreed.

"Please don't tell anyone" Sansa said before drifting away.

She would go to her chambers and sleep and when she woke, this would be nothing but a bad dream.

**Jon**

They rose at the hour of the lark to journey to Long Lake. The icy oasis of the North was a long two days ride from Winterfell and extra time was needed for the wagons that carried the noble youth's tents, trinkets and trousseaus. The royal children did not fare well on rising so early; Princess Myrcella's eyelids drooped and Tommen fell out of his saddle only to be caught by Ser Meryn Trant before he could crack his skill on the cobbled courtyard of Winterfell. It was agreed that it would be best to tie him his horse. Prince Joffrey arrived in the courtyard late and complained bitterly about the hour, for which Arya mocked him to his face mercilessly. Jon hid a proud smile at her boldness and the fact that she somehow got away with it.

Lord and Lady Stark bid them farewell and Jon was disappointed Sansa did not join them. He regretted his surly words from the night before and hoped she might forget them by the time he returned.

They set out on horseback, conditions on the Kingsroad were too poor this far north to take a wheelhouse. Every few hours the road became blocked by a fallen tree or pile of snow. Jon, Robb and Bran got off their horses to help the men clear the way, they told Rickon and Tommen to stay on their ponies while Joffrey and Theon stayed on their horses voluntarily.

The trip was Bran's idea but it had been organised by Lady Stark and was led by Robb. Bran, a true summer's child had grown up with tales of lakes so frozen you could fasten whalebone to your boots and glide across the icy surface. As far as Jon could tell the expedition had been put together as a way to entertain the Princes and Princess.

"Feel that wind," Robb made a show of inhaling the crisp cold winter air "That'll put hairs on your chest, eh Snow?"

"That or give us frostbite" Jon said, it seemed to be getting colder every day. _How long until the Bay of Ice froze? Or the Bay of Seals?_

Robb laughed "Cheer up brother. We're out of Winterfell now, no more dances and curtseys, just the great open North for us to range upon."

Jon wanted to ask how much ranging Robb planned to do on the Kingsroad with the royal children, two septas and Prince Tommen's fool in tow. Robb seemed too jovial however, he cracked jokes and even indulged Myrcella in her many questions about the North. He took pride in being the leader of the little party, telling them where to camp for the night and organising the baggage train.

_He wore the same proud smile when he killed Ygritte, he was so proud of saving my life._

Jon thought of his father's words, that Robb found it frustrating at Winterfell without a proper role. _He find is claustrophobic to be treated like a child and yet he is not nearly a man._

Jon went along with him, pretending to take delight in the freedom the trip brought instead of sorrow of the time it wasted. Robb had tempted him with the prospect of meting the Karstarks and Umbers at Long Lake but in truth he found the trip more suffocating than Winterfell. There were walls at Winterfell, the disdain of Lady Stark and the snobbish southroners but he could always escape to abandoned quarters to talk with Mance, play with Dallan, Hosten and Ghost or sit by the fire in the evenings with Sansa. He felt no guilt with Sansa as he did with the rest of his family. She knew he kept secrets and for whatever reason seemed to accept that. He felt peace and ease from simply being in her presence.

No such peace could be felt in the presence of Bran, Arya and Rickon who saw him as some sort of ridiculous hero rather than the uneasy traitor he was in truth. On the Kingsroad, he could not escape the presence of the royal party who between sneers and polite ignorance reminded him of his status as a bastard in a way he had not experienced since Lord and Lady Stark had sent him from Winterfell.

It was Robb who was the worst though. Sometimes Jon could barely look at him.

Sometimes Jon pictured Robb's face when he learned of his betrayal, would his brother redden in anger or fall in despair? Would he take Jon's head himself or try some ridiculous attempt to help him flee to the Free Cities.

Jon would never flee.

When they arrived on the southern coast of the lake, they came upon a glade of whitewood trees that shielded them from the harsh winter winds. Lord Stark's men had journeyed ahead and a small hamlet of brightly coloured tents had been set up in preparation.

"Oh camping, how exciting!" the Princess Myrcella squealed "Like Father on his hunting trips."

The tents were made of a flimsy canvas, unlike the furs of temporary wildling shelters and at first Jon wondered how they intended to keep warm. Then through open flaps he saw contained braziers (along with beds, chaises and tables) that puffed smoke through carefully constructed floos.

A long table supper had been set out for their arrival and the younger boys ran to feast themselves on partridge pie and pinecone tea. Jon tied his horse to a crooked branch at the edges of the glade and took a moment to look out at the frozen lake. He had passed it a couple of times over the years but never on a day as clear as this. The vast frozen surface was almost like glass that reflected the colbalt blue sky and glistened in the pale winter sun. Ygritte had once talked of coming here, she had been raised in the Haunted Forests and the largest bodies of water she had ever seen were the spindly tributaries of the Antler River, Jon had once fantasised about taking her to the coast and watching her face as she gazed out on the sea for the first time.

"Snow!" It was Robb "Better hurry up of I'll pick the best room for myself" and he nodded in jest to the tent like palace that they were to share.

Jon's heart hardened "We need more firewood" He said and headed off into the woods where he could be alone.

He strode through the trees seeing nothing but the image of Ygritte lying in the bloodied snow, of Robb smiling. He struck his sword against the nearest birch and whacked. His eyes stung with tears.

_Whack! Whack!_

He attacked the tree for what felt like hours, until his muscles ached, his hands were raw and he no longer saw Ygritte's face in front of his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think so far? All criticism (both positive and negative) is welcome.


	10. By turns, shy, insolent and wicked

**Sansa**

_After three days of crying, tantrums and refusing to eat her dinner, Sansa's father summoned her to the battlements._

_"Do you know why I brought you here?" He asked in a kind tone. Dragged was a better word, Sansa would be happy never to see her father again since he had revealed himself to be so cruel. But her mother had threatened to lock Lady up in the kennels of she didn't at least hear Lord Stark out._

_They stood under the wooden shelter of the inner walkway. Rain pelted on the roof making sounds like arrowheads and the view was grey and foggy. Sansa's cloak was sodden through and the cold water had splashed inside her slippers even as she had tried to dodge the large lake like puddles in the courtyard below._

_She was just tall enough to see over the parapets. To the left was moorland, boggy by the floods, to the right spanned the great Wolfswood which stretched for hundreds of miles across the North, all the way to the Bay of Ice and Northern Mountains. The leaves on the trees glistened from the rain._

_"The rain" Sansa guessed meekly, she felt a little ashamed of her behavior now stood next to the tall, proud figure of her father as he surveyed his lands. Father never summoned her for a private audience, that was always reserved for Robb or on a rare occasion Bran or Jon._

_She knew she was being selfish, that her father would never make her marry a dwarf if not for the rains. She wanted to help her father's people, end their suffering only...only...Tyrion Lannister was so short and so old._

_"No not the rain, the trees." Her father said and then he pointed far into the distance over the tops of the forest trees. "Do you remember Egan's cottage?"_

_Sansa nodded. Egan was a crofter who lived four hours ride into the Wolfswood. The Starks often stopped there to lunch whenever they went for rides or hunts. Egan was a kindly old man who considered it a great honor to make his hearth and home of use to his lord._

_"Maester Luwin says we will have to cut down all the trees between here and the cottage." Her father continued._

_Sansa looked at him aghast. But that must be thousands. What about Egan, what would he live on if the trees went? What about the deer and the rabbits and blue jays, where would they make their homes? How could Winterfell be Winterfell with a if the bordering Wolfswood was ripped away leaving the land bare like a scar._

_"But why?" She cried._

_Her father looked at her in both solemnity and sadness "For the coffins." He sighed._

_Sansa couldn't help it, she started to cry. Great fat baby like tears burst from her eyes and she started sniveling in very unladylike manner._

_Alarmed, Lord Stark fell to his knees and clutched her in his arms._

_"But I d...don't want to go..." She sobbed, burying her head in his shoulders "Pl....please, please don't m...make me."_

_"Sansa, my love..." And even in her distress she could recognize her father's voice was reedy and watery and if she had looked at his face she would have seen him crying. "I would rather die than send you away. If I could give my life to fix this, I would."_

_"No." Sansa whimpered, alarmed at the thought._

_Her father leaned back, still on his knees and cupped her face in his hands "You are a Stark, you know our words..."_

_"Winter is coming." Sansa repeated dolefully._

_"Aye and I don't have enough food to feed the North." Her father said in a pleading voice "Thousands will die. Being a Lord or a Lady isn't about wearing fine clothes or living in great castles, its about protecting the small folk in times of trouble."_

_"These are your people Sansa. By marrying Tyrion Lannister you will do more for the North than almost any other Stark that has come before you."_

_She wanted to help, she wanted to make her father happy and do this grand, noble thing but nobody wrote songs about maidens married to dwarves and if they did they weren't the kind of songs Sansa liked._

_"B...but couldn't you ask If I could marry the Prince?" She asked hopefully "He's a Lannister too."_

_"He's a Baratheon and not Lord Tywin's heir." Her father explained patiently, well aware she already knew this "Lord Lannister wants you to be the Lady of Casterly Rock someday. The Lannisters are the richest family in the realm, I'll wager that you'll be treated more like a princess there than in Kings Landing."_

_"But I won't be a_ _real_ _princess" Sansa whined, why didn't he understand the difference "Can't Arya marry him? She doesn't care who she marries."_

_Her father chuckled as though she had just asked why Arya had got a piece of cake and not her "Arya is your little sister and you know she is far less ready for marriage than you. Nor will she fare so well in the South with all its singers and tourneys and knights. Would you really subject your little sister to something you can protect her from?"_

No was the answer of course. The thought of Arya marrying now made Sansa go cold. Now she knew what men were really capable of she dreaded the thought of putting her willful and stubborn little sister at the mercy of some unknown stranger of a man.

Had Arya married Tyrion she would have annoyed him until he found some way to punish her. Cersei would have tortured the little Lyanna lookalike until her firey spirit broke and who knew if the King could've keep his hands to himself when she was grown. And that was nothing compared to how Lord Tywin would have crushed her for her inevitable willfulness and lack of decorum.

And Joffrey, it put ice in her veins to think of what Joffrey might do….

Sansa tried not to think about it and told herself that it was pointless speculating. She and her father had both made southron marriages, her siblings would need to marry northern nobles to repair the relationships damaged in the Great Floods. Lady Stark would find a nice noble northern boy for Arya to marry, one with whom she could hunt and boss around.

They never did sing songs of Sansa's marriage, people just looked at her with pity. In those first few moons at Casterly Rock when she cried herself to sleep each night, the notion that she had done some noble grand thing for the North seemed as far away as the Asshai by the Shadow. Her mother made mention of the food caravans sent by Lord Tywin in her letters but they could not sooth the painful loneliness Sansa felt or the pinching and pressing of Joffrey's body against hers.

Egan's cottage still stood, hidden beneath the many trees of the Wolfswood. Only a spindly trail of smoke, emerging from the firs, betrayed the location if the chimney.

"She's a beautiful creature." She almost jumped. It was her father who approached.

He was looking out to Blueberry who swooped and glided over the moors. Her silver feathers gleamed amongst the blue in the winter sun.

"A gift from Lord Arryn?"

Sansa nodded "For my fourteenth name day." Her second name day without Lady and her first one in Kings Landing. Her mother had sent her a roll of Myrish lace for dressmaking while Lord Stark had sent her a doll. Almost three years after he had married her off, he had sent her doll.

Sansa remembered being so angry that later, in private, she had thrown the thing against the wall. The next day she had felt guilty because it had been of fine quality and would've been expensive, the least she could have done was donate it to an orphanage. Now she felt very little, the emotions she had felt towards her father in her youth were exhausting to hold up and so she did not think on him much, other than to feel the surprised on the odd moments that he talked to her.

"How was he at the end?" Her father asked in a more sombre tone.

"...Tired" Sansa's gaze fell to the stone blocks of the ramparts as she remembered the death of her only family in Kings Landing "It happened very quickly, one day he was healthy I think and working, the next he was in bed and his maester could do nothing for him. The Gods were good that my Lord Uncle did not suffer long."

"The maester did not know the cause of the illness?" Her father asked with interest.

Sansa shook her head "I don't think there was time, it all happened so quickly" she said and then paused "He worked too much" She added "In the days before his death he was running around the city so much that he missed a dinner often. My uncle was not a young man, he should have taken better care of himself...we should have taken better care of him."

Sansa's father looked at her fondly "You are a good niece" Then he looked out at the moors and the forest, seeming to lose himself in quiet thought. His gaze drifted up to the skies where Blueberry was circling overhead.

"Has she had much luck hunting?" He asked.

"I think so." Sansa said "She never comes back from her hunts hungry."

"Good" Lord Stark said but his visage was still stern and betrayed concern "There was more for her to eat in Kings Landing, I'm sure...There's more of everything in Kings Landing really."

Sansa hesitated, she knew the conversation she should have with her father, the warnings she should give him but she didn't feel quite equal to it.

She felt like a pretty glass figurine in his eyes. Every now and then she could see the pity and guilt in his gaze when he looked at her.

 _Everyone pities me. Uncle Arryn didn't, neither did Pod, he thought I was fortunate to marry a man such as Tyrion._ In some ways she was.

"Has the King asked you to be his hand?" She asked, chastising herself for not framing the question more elegantly.

Her father fought a bitter smirk "We might as knock down all the inner walls and live in one great room, for as impossible as it is to keep secrets in this place."

That was hardly true, she kept many secrets. _So did Jon._

"So you're going to Kings Landing?" Sansa asked, unable to betray the alarm in her voice.

"Yes" her father looked disappointed "You don't seem pleased. It won't just be me. The boys will come to squire, and Arya, and your mother. I know how much the pair of you have missed each other."

Arya in Kings Landing. Seven Hells.

That would last about as long as an aurochs in a glassblower's workshop.

"I am...I only would not want you to come just for me." There was so much more that she wanted to say. That she wished she could say. "Kings Landing, it is so different from Winterfell."

Her father laughed knowingly "Aye, that it is."

He didn't quite seem to understand "But the people...they are not like here." she pressed. "They lie and cheat and they do not like Northerners. They think of us as simple."

Lord Stark looked at her kindly "I know the kind of people that dwell in Kings Landing Sansa, you forget I have been there before" She had forgotten. He cupped the back of her head, stroking her hair and gently kissed her forehead "You are a good daughter for worrying about me so. Mark my words, we will tread carefully in the capital."

But for all his words, Lord Stark looked as concerned as though she'd just warned him of snarks.

Sansa wanted to scream out a thousand warnings, about the cruelness of the Lannisters, the duplicity of the courtiers and the brutality of the King. But she knew her father will never listen to her, he still saw her as the wailing sheltered child she once was.

Ned Stark held out his arm "Come, let us go into dine before your mother sends out a search party."

As they past the pig sties they bumped into Osha and the boys. Hosten and Dallan were wobbling on their feet, reaching their chubby fists through the wooden slats of the fence to try to grab hold of the piglets.

Lord Stark chuckled on seeing them and swept up Hosten in his large arms. "Papa!" Hosten squealed in delight pulling on his father's beard.

"My boy, come, it's time to eat" Sansa's father said affectionately kissing him on the cheek before quickly bending down to ruffle Dallan's golden hair. Sansa noticed Osha twitch as he did so.

The wilding then caught her eye and as the party headed towards the Great Hall, whispered out of her father's hearing "We need to talk."

* * *

The women struggled to find an opportunity to speak until the following morning. After she had broken her fast, Sansa went to the nursery where she found Osha waiting for her outside.

"You're late" the nurse griped, walking away almost immediately.

"I can't just slip away" Sansa said "People will notice if I just go missing."  
Osha huffed "They also notice if we go skulking around in mid morning when everyone is up and about."

To her surprise the wildling nurse led her outside the keep and to the Guest House but they went an odd way, ducking in and out arches of the inner walls as well as going through the Armory. It wasn't until they had reached the upper floors of the Guest House that Sansa realised they had scarcely seen a soul.

"You're very good at this" Sansa whispered to her suspiciously.

Osha merely smirked "Isn't that what m'lady hired me for?"

"I'm not actually paying you" Sansa muttered disgruntled under her breath.

"No, yer blackmailing me" Osha returned, making Sansa feel slightly guilty.

The top most floor of the Guest House had low hanging ceilings that forced them to bend their necks awkwardly so as not to hit their heads. The hot water from Winterfell's springs could not run through the roof and so it was colder than the rest of the building and was used for storage. The space had grown dusty over time and smelled of mould.

"What are we…" Sansa started but Osha hushed her. She lead her through a nearby door and beckoned her into a room full of disused bathtubs and broken chairs. She then gestured for Sansa's help to quietly place a copper tub in front of the door so no-one else could get in and then to move a stack of chairs out of a corner of the room. Sansa's back hurt afterwards, she hadn't been aware that there was so much lifting involved in subterfuge.

"Osha, what are we…"

"SSShhh!" Osha hissed angrily, she got to her knees in the space the chairs had once sat and then lay down on her belly to peer intently at the stone flagons. Sansa was quite ready to call her mad and only complied after rolling her eyes when Osha gestured that she should get down on the floor too.

It was then that she realised that it wasn't the stone flagons Osha was staring at but rather a crack between them, through which they could see an ornately decorated bed chamber on the floor below. She gasped.

"It's empty, good. We're not too late." Osha whispered with satisfaction.

Sansa took in the red and gold brocade bedsheets, the plum colored Lorathi carpets and a silver Myrish screen decorated in with mermaids and whales. There was a long plush red and gold chaise near the fire, with a delicately crafted table next to it that held a jug of wine, goblets and honeyed sweets on a golden platter. This was Cersei's private bed chamber.

"My parents' cannot know this is here" Sansa whispered in awe "What luck"

"Hardly luck" Osha snorted "Your ancestors weren’t as trusting as Lord and Lady Stark."

"Either that or they were perverts" Sansa said without thinking before slapping her hand over her mouth. Osha let out a cackle "There's hope for you yet Lannister."

"Don't call me a Lannister" Sansa scolded and she settled down to watch Cersei's empty bedchamber.

It soon became clear that Cersei was not returning to her bedchamber immediately after breakfast and Sansa quickly became uncomfortable lying on the dirty floor, she drew doodles in the dust beside her and looked at Osha wondering how often she had waited up here, spying.

"Where are Hosten and Dallan?" She asked quietly.

"I gave them to the oldest Poole girl" Osha answered "Good practice for when her one comes."

"Sonya's not with child" Osha gave her a sardonic expression "She's not" Sansa repeated.

Osha merely shrugged her shoulders and went back to watching the empty room below.

Sansa waited for a moment before asking quietly "Where is your child Osha?"

The wildling woman stiffened but did otherwise not respond "You came to Winterfell as a wet nurse, you had mother's milk?"

"Aye, I did." Osha eventually said, still not making eye contact with her "My babes are gone, both of them. They're with the Old Gods now."

Sansa had been expecting something like this but her pity was no less strong "My aunt lost many babes, it drove her mad" She said with sympathy "You must be very strong."

Osha sniffed dismissively "Only rich southerners had the luxury of going mad in grief. The rest of us have to carry on."

Sansa didn't know what to say to that so she merely stayed quiet. She had tried to be understanding of her Aunt Lysa, her uncle had always said she had had a hard life but it seemed as though Osha had had a harder one. Osha was biting but not cruel and she loved the little boys in her care in a way that made them strong, Lysa loved Robin into weakness.

Sansa heard distant scuttling and the hairs stuck up on her arms as she desperately prayed that hoped that no mice would come in the room while they were lying face down on the floor.

"The first died inside of me, she was cold when she came out" Osha spoke suddenly in a dead toneless voice, Sansa wondered when the last time she had spoken about this was "The second was strong and healthy, born on the banks of the Milkwater in the dead of night, in the hour of the ghosts. He...he was so strong."

She sounded proud but then... scared.

"We'd been quiet, so quiet for so long but then the screams echoed around the valley, up into the mountains and drew them to us. They attacked us in the night…"

"The Others?" The fairytales that Jon and Osha told had somehow started sending a shiver up Sansa's spine.

"They killed my man, they were tall and paler than snow, they pushed a sword through his chest and he fell down dead. He died infront of me before rising again with grey flesh and eyes bluer than sapphires. He weren't my man anymore."

Osha sniffed and Sansa pretended she couldn't see the tears in the wildling's eyes. She continued in a hardened voice

"The rest of us escaped to the mountain, we'd heard of Mance's army reforming in Skirling Pass nearby. My clan left me and my babe, claiming we were too slow" She spat "But I didn’t give up, I made my way through the mountains slowly but steadily. I could feel the Others' ungodly eyes on my heels throughout the journey. They wanted my babe but they didn't get him. The cold and hunger killed him in my arms, not half a day from Mance's camp. I burned the body so that the Others could never touch him."

There was anger in her voice as she finished, Sansa reached out to touch her shoulder but Osha shrugged her off and just stared back down into the room with determination. The door slammed and both women jumped. Queen Cersei swept into her bedchamber with her ladies. "Wine!" She demanded falling down on the chaise "I need something to sooth the suffering that is Catelyn Stark's cloying alms giving."

Sansa felt guilt gnawing up inside of her, she would miss going to Wintertown with her mother. Cersei ended up missing the trip too, ordering a servant to tell Lady Catelyn that she was suffering from head pains. Instead she summoned one of Princess Mrycella's singers to entertain her and ordered more wine and cake to feast on.

Occasionally one of the Kings pages or a squire belonging to one of the southron knights would visit her to relay meaningless gossip. She flirted with them in return but failed to notice that the boys seemed more interested in the gold purses she gave them. Cersei was no longer the beauty she had been when Sansa had first arrived in Kings Landing, wine and indulgence had fattened her and her teeth had begun to blacken.

Sansa felt her stomach and legs begin to ache as the hours ticked by, she hardly dared breath for fear of alerting Cersei. She felt her bladder begin to sting but she refused to go in the small pot in the far corner of the room as Osha had done earlier. Her resentment of Cersei and Kitty grew. The bells of Winterfell rang out announcing the hour of the doe.

Cersei sat up at the sound of the bells "Leave me" She ordered her attendants.

Osha who had been lying on her back picking at her fingernails rolled onto her front at the command and gave Sansa a meaningful look. Sansa pulled herself even closer to the crack in the floor.

The servants left and a few moments later there was a knock on the door.

"Enter!" Cersei called, pouring herself more wine as a slow smile stretched across her face "So my dear, what else do you have to tell me of my dwarf brother?"

"A great deal my lady." And to Sansa's shock it was not Kitty but Shae who moved forward and dipped into a low curtsey before the Queen.

* * *

Sansa locked herself up in her chamber for the rest of the day, using the excuse of responding to her neglected correspondence to avoid Shae. Of course it was Shae. When Lord Tywin bought service, that service was his and his alone. Thinking about it now, it was inconceivable that the Old Lion's spy would be selling secrets to another. Of course the maid who giggled with Sansa like a naughty sister and shamelessly lay with the stunted master was doing what she could to earn gold on the side.

Kitty had tricked her the same way. Pretending to be friends whilst she whispered in Lord Tywin's ear that she had bled and was ready to wed. Why wouldn't Shae betray her in the same way?

Sansa angrily wiped her eyes, taking care not to let any tears fall on her letter to Lady Crakehall. There was a new letter from Lady Margaery, once again hinting at a proposal between Arya and Willas. Sansa forced herself to write with politeness rather than the anger that bubbled up inside of her, Arya would marry a southerner over her cold dead body.

After she had coded Margaery's letter she had two unopened letters left. One was from the Tarly sisters and the other she saw to her surprise and dismay was from Harry.

She ran her hand through her hair, ripping open the Hardyng seal. What on earth had he been thinking - the inappropriateness! He was the only member of House Hardyng, anyone looking at the seal who knew the house would realise instantly that he was writing directly to her.

Even worse the cipher was poor, a simple one shift code that she was able to decipher quickly.

Harry was in Runestone (good - at least he had followed one instruction). He talked of missing her, of dreaming about her and wanting to kiss her as well as doing all manner of filthy things that would get him killed if the letter fell into the wrong hands.

Words that once would have made Sansa warm and feel pretty now made her furious. She wanted to write back immediately, scold him and order him never to contact her again but she couldn't take the risk that the letter would go astray and fall into Lord Royce's hand. She stuck the translated letter at the bottom of the pile, and shoved the letters in the bottom drawer of her desk. Then Sansa took the original coded letter, written in his own hand and threw it on the fire and watched as it crumped and blackened, becoming ash.

**Jon**

The snow crunched under Jon's boots as he stalked otherwise silently through the forest. To his right was Long Lake, the moonlight bounced off the frosted ice and filtered through the trees to light his way.

He had spent three days (or was it four) out on his own in the forests around Long Lake, taking his anger out on whatever mammal or bird was unfortunate enough to cross his arrow's path. He had slept in the snow shelters that Ygritte had taught him how to build and ate berries along with the game he caught. Away from everyone his anger drained away and out in the wilderness the Old Gods seemed to sooth his soul.

After his third night of sleeping on cold hard ground he began to miss Winterfell and sitting by a roaring fire with Sansa as she darned his shirt and they talked of nothing in particular. He began to miss the laughter of Arya and Bran, and even bantering back and forth with Robb.

Ahead of him, Jon saw the soft orange glow of the camp fires, he could hear laughter and music and as he walked through the outer rim of tents Jon saw Princess Myrcella standing before the camp, with her musicians, singing _The Mermaid's Lament_. He spotted Robb sitting alone on a log on the outskirts of the circle, cleaning his sword.

Robb blinked in surprise before he turned his attention back to the blade "You're back then?"

"Aye, I thought you might be sick of fish." He threw down three dead wood grouse and sat beside his brother.

"Arya, Bran and Rickon have been asking after you." Robb informed him in a cold tone.

"I went hunting" Jon said needlessly "These royals don't want a bastard like me around."

Robb snorted dismissively before muttering "Yes, I know how much you worry about hurting their feelings."

Jon tried not to sneer, he snatched up the dead birds and headed into the tent. The melodies of the Princesses' song wafted through the canvas, Jon grabbed a stool and started to pluck the birds. He didn't give a damn about the Royal family, he tried to steer clear of them whenever he could. The King was nothing but a fat drunk (even Robb knew that much) who cared more wine and women than the realm. The Lannisters were spoiled people who seemed to taunt Sansa for the fun of it.

The tent flap opened as a draft of icy air blew in, Robb strode in carrying a flagon of mead and two goblets. He stood by the table, a little away from Jon as he poured their drinks.

"Has Father mentioned anything to you about Princess Myrcella?" If Jon had expected Robb to ask anything, it wasn't that.

"No, why?" Jon frowned.

Robb sat down next to him and handed him the mead "She keeps giggling and... _flirting_ with me….at least I _think_ it's meant to be flirting."

"You think there's to be a betrothal?"

"That's what I can't work out" Robb rubbed his red beard with frustration. "She's obviously got the idea from somewhere but Father avoids the subject anytime I try to ask."

Lord Stark was good at that.

"I suppose it makes sense." Jon said slowly "It would be a good match, Father and the King are old friends and well...you're not getting any younger."

Robb snorted, this time with amusement "Thanks" He said sarcastically before muttering "I hate that I'm being kept out of it. The last I heard was that I was to marry Lady Wynafryd Manderly... He doesn't trust me."

"He doesn't trust any of us. We're still just boys to him, no matter how many men we kill." Jon said, letting the sentence hang in the air. Robb swigged down the last of his mead."Wynafryd Manderly? What's she like?"

"No fucking clue. I've never met her."

"You could ask Sansa, she might write to her, or write to someone who knows her." Jon suggested.

"Sansa writes to everybody" Robb said, pouring more mead "All I know is that the Manderlys are rich and so her dowry must be large and apparently that's enough."

It seemed strange that Lord and Lady Stark who, reluctant as Jon was to admit, obviously had a loving marriage, were marrying their children off to the richest nobles that came calling. But then what other choice did they have, the North was starving. Their own marriage had been arranged, perhaps they hoped their children would be as fortunate as themselves.

"Mother and Father tried to arrange a match with Margaery Tyrell but the Tyrells wouldn't have it." Robb confided. Jon wasn't surprised, Sansa had described Highgarden to him in great detail, it sounded like heaven in winter, why would Lady Margaery leave the Reach for this barren wasteland?

"They offered a match between Ser Willas and Arya instead." Robb continued.

"Seven hells" Jon choked.

"I know, as if mother would consent to such a thing after what happened with Sansa, even if Arya were ready for a betrothal."

"I can't imagine Arya living in the South...She's still such a child."

"She might go to Kings Landing with Father" Robb shrugged before smirking "They'll make her wear dresses everyday in court."

Jon chuckled.

"I think Father wants us all to make Northern matches though" Robb continued thoughtfully "House Stark hasn't made a Northern match since Grandfather. I just hope I get Wynafryd and Father doesn't try to sell me off to Lady Dustin in an effort to get that blasted woman to pay her taxes."

Jon didn't know whether to laugh, scorn or feel pity so instead he just refilled Robb's cup with more mead.

"Who would you prefer Myrcella or Wynafryd?" Jon asked.

"Oh Wynafryd." Robb said in an instance "Can you imagine having the little shit that is the Crown Prince as a brother?"

Involuntary Jon barked with laughter and soon his brother joined him.

**Sansa**

She entered the Great Hall to see Bronn flirting with Osha by one of the great hearths as the boys rolled around on the floor with the dogs.

Sansa coughed loudly behind him, ceasing their laughter and smiled sweetly “Has my husband no need of you Ser Bronn?”

“Not right now, no” Bronn answered as though he were talking to a washer woman rather than his lady “But I can see when I’m not wanted.”

Osha laughed as he left "You’ll have to teach me that Lady’s glare, it could scare away an aurochs.”

“You should not talk to him, he’s nothing but a jumped up cutthroat.” Sansa said, sitting down beside Osha.

“I’ve dealt with worse than him ” Osha said “I know his type, talks of killing like brushing his hair but I’d wager he’s spent most of his life posturing and running.” She sniggered “He tried to impress me by claiming he’d been past the Wall, that man’s never been further north than Winterfell."

Sansa gave a small smile. She grabbed a handful lavender and fern from the table and started to plait strings together. Her mother had asked her to go to the Great Hall to help the women decorate in preparation for the feast welcoming home the Long Lake party. Catelyn undoubtedly meant her to sit with the Poole girls but of late she sometimes found herself uncomfortable around them. Sonya wanted her opinion on her wedding dress and Nelly was relentless in asking about relations between a husband and wife.

Sansa looked around and saw that no one else was sitting by them, she lowered her voice

“How... How do you deal with worse than Bronn?”

Osha pulled back the bottom of her skirts to reveal a dagger strapped to a bony ankle. “Most women try to go for the neck. That’s foolish, the man sees it coming and it gives the him time enough to defend himself.” She pointed at a spot on the inside of her thigh “If you stab a man here, you can catch him unawares and he’ll bleed for days.”

Sansa sighed disappointed.

“You don’t believe me.” Osha narrowed her eyes.

“It’s not that. You can’t just stab people south of the Wall.”

“Because you’re not free” Osha said with an annoying air of superiority.

“Because we’re not barbarians.” Sansa replied with condescension.

The door to the Great Hall opened and Shae stood at its precipice. As she looked around for her mistress, the maid smoothed down her hair and dress and Sansa noticed her cheeks were red. Sansa suddenly realised why Tyrion had not been in need of Bronn.

“I don’t suppose you can stab her” Osha muttered “Mores the pity”

“No but there are other ways of dealing with women like her.” Sansa answered under her breath, she may not know much about fighting but a few years in court had taught her something about how to deal with ladies. She turned back to the wildling and asked quickly and quietly, before Shae could reach them “Could you get to top of the Bell Tower, tonight, at the hour of the wolf, without anyone seeing you?”

Osha looked at her curiously “Aye” She answered slowly.

Sansa smiled “Ring the bell then, if you please?”

**Jon**

The smell of warm cinnamon wafted through the hall, Jon picked at the remnants of his apple pie as he watched the dancing and merriment of the feast in full force. He wasn't much in the mood for merriment; things were still strange between him and Robb while Arya and Bran were still annoyed at him for running off during the trip to Long Lake.

Now that he was back at Winterfell he was angry at himself. The King and his party would not be at Winterfell forever. Jon was no closer to getting any more gold or supplies for the Wall and he had spent three days hunting in a sulk rather than persuading the young royals of the white shadows that lurked beyond the Wall. His father had brushed him off when he'd tried to broach the subject with him again on his return and Sansa was dancing with Theon.

The latter part wasn't related to his mission but it still annoyed Jon. He took a swig of ale and stared sulkily as Theon twirled Sansa round wearing an unbearably smug smirk at his good fortune of dancing two sets with the most beautiful girl in Winterfell.

How exactly was she able to look so radiant whether lit by the light of a thousand candles or the dim hearth of her dark chambers?

A stab of irritation pricked him, she didn't even like Theon, what was she doing laughing at his jokes when she hadn't spoken to Jon in the hours since his return? Jon wondered what her husband had to say to all of this but then noticed that Tyrion Lannister was on the dias drinking heavily with the Kingslayer. The Imp did not seem capable of noticing what was happening a foot in front of him at the moment.

"Can I fill you up Snow?" Jory Cassel appeared by his side with Sonya Poole, both wearing large grins.

Jon offered his cup, he wasn't dancing tonight so there was no reason not to get legless "What are you two grinning so much about?"

"Father gave us permission to wed last night" Sonya rejoiced "And after I'm to go with him to Kings Landing to be Arya's lady in waiting"

Jon chuckled "So you're to make a man out of Jory and a lady out of Arya. Good luck with that."

Sonya barked with laughter and so good was Jory's mood that even he raised a grin at the jest "I can't wait, just think..." Sonya cooed at her betrothed "We'll escape this harsh winter and our children will be born under the warm sun, by the crashing waves of the Blackwater Bay. And I won't have to say goodbye to Sansa again, she'll be in court with us."

Jon's stomach fell and he looked back at his half sister, who was still smiling brightly at Theon.

"I've been so worried about her in Kings Landing all alone." Sonya said with a pity that Jon didn't think was fully earned. Sansa wasn't the same frightened little girl that had been sent south, he knew from their conversations that her life in Kings Landing had not been pleasant but that she had been able to scrape together some comfort and companionship. Her maid Shae, her Lord Uncle Arryn, the scores of ladies in the city and across the realm who constantly wrote to her, she was fond of her husband and he had even see her exchange pleasant conversation with the Hound who she had informed him was not nearly as terrifying as he looked.

Mance's music came to a gentle stop and the dancing ended. Theon and Sansa happened to be standing nearby and Jon heard the Ironborn ask for another dance. Sansa laughed and pressed against his chest lightly.

"I couldn't possibly" she sang "Dance with Shae, and let me rest for a while."

She summoned her handmaiden to take her place, who had been sitting at the sidelines watching the dancing enviously. Shae was too low born to be asked to dance directly by a nobleman and so she took Theon's hand with utter delight.

Then Jon felt his irritation ebb away as Sansa came to sit by them, she sat next to him but addressed Sonya, and the pair launched into a discussion about the latter's wedding cloak. Jory chuckled at being ignored "I suppose this is what I have to look forward to in Kings Landing." he said quietly to Jon.

"It shall be worse as we will have more fabric to talk of." Sansa answered him with an impish smile.

"Sure you don't want to take the Black after all?" Jon said to Jory, Sansa gave him a playful shove and he broke into a grin

The next moment Robb rushed over to sit with them "I can't act" he declared before even sitting down.

"What…" Sansa started

"Sansa" he interrupted her with pleading eyes "Just….I can't act...ok?"

Their befuddlement was answered a few seconds later when Princess Myrcella and Rosamund Lannister joined them. It appeared Myrcella was trying to recruit Robb to act in her play.

"I beg your pardon, your grace but I'm a terrible mummer. I would love nothing more to help but fear I would ruin all your hard work" Robb said with as much sincerity as he could muster "My brother and sister were just saying how awful I was in the plays we used to put on as children, weren't you?"

He gave Jon and Sansa a firm prompting look. "Horrible" Sansa agreed with shining eyes, "Truly terrible" Jon said about as convincingly.

"Oh but you do not need to worry. Mother thought that it would be more appropriate for Joffrey to play Durran Godsgrief so I thought we could be the narrators." Mrycella gushed with reddened cheeks that may have come from wine or proximity to Robb

"Um…"

"It's perfect, if Joffrey is Durran then I won't be able to play Elenei and this way you won't have to act." Myrcella added excitedly "What do you think?"

"Err…" Robb looked around, obviously trying to find an escape route but coming up short "I guess."

Myrcella squealed "Wonderful, we can rehearse tomorrow and you can help me with the script."

"Err…" stuttered Robb, who had by this point had paled considerably.

"Will you play Elenei, Rosamund?" Sonya asked kindly and possibly as an attempt to distract from Robb's increasing look of dread.

"Oh no, I'm going to be the Goddess of the Wind" Rosamund said proudly "She has all the best lines"

"I've asked Lady Arya to play Elenei, she has this dark other worldly beauty which will be perfect for the sea goddess." Mrycella explained.

Sansa snorted and this time Jon shoved her whilst trying to stifle his own grin.

"More wine, you two" Sonya refilled their goblets, looking at them both with disapproval.

Jory got out a deck of cards and Mrycella told them more about her play as he shuffled. She asked Sansa to play the Lady of the Moon because of her 'moon white skin' and Jon to be the God of Clouds because of his 'wild look'. This caused Robb and Jory to laugh out loud while for some reason Sansa went a little red, the blush on her cheeks was oddly becoming.

"Snow, wild? The man spent six moons living with wildlings and he's still about as dangerous as one of Prince Tommen's kittens" mocked Theon, who had turned up, showing his unrivaled ability for sensing when fun was being had without him "Who's playing the Sea God? If the answer isn't 'you Theon', then you and I will have words little princess."

He finished with a smug smirk and even little Myrcella had enough judgement to throw Greyjoy a dirty look, which was more than could be said for Sansa who had invited him and Shae to sit by her and was now pouring them both goblets of Arbor Gold.

"I haven't yet decided" the Princess declared although Jon suspected she just wasn't brave enough to tell Theon 'no'.

"Let's play 'Hide the Knight' or 'Septon Samanta'" Sansa suggested excitedly.

"I have never heard of those" Robb laughed "Are you making them up?"

"They're Southron games Sansa wants to play because she can't win at proper cards." Jon explained.

"'Hide the Knight' is proper cards" Rosamund objected.

"See" Sansa said sticking her tongue out

"We should play 'Rat Run', that's a proper Northern game." said Jon

"Northern game? They play it in the Reach, they call it 'Grass Snake' and say it was invented by a Gardener Queen." Sansa argued

"Well they're lying, everyone knows the game comes from Iron Islands" Theon retorted.

"If they play it in the North and the South then it should be acceptable to everyone" Robb decided using what Jon and Theon had termed his Lord's voice.

**Sansa**

Sansa was somewhat in her cups. She had been encouraging Shae and Theon to drink all night and as a result had drunk more Arbor Gold than she was used to.

Playing cards became awkward and unwieldy by the time Bran and then later Arya and Joffrey joined the table seeking their share of fun and the games quickly disintegrated into drinking and laughing.

She roped Shae into teaching Theon one of Tyrion's drinking games and Sansa flirted with him throughout in the hopes of getting his blood up. She did it subtly, as she had seen Margaery bend men in a way that could not cause any accusations of impropriety but she could tell it still irritated Jon and Robb. Jon from the stiff way he sat beside her, every now and then watching them out of the corner of his eye as he talked to Jory and Sonya and Robb by the way, to Sansa's disappointment, he made sure he was the one to escort Theon out of the Great Hall when the feast finally started to die down.

It was the hour of the owl by the time hall started to clear and as Sansa got up she stumbled over her skirts.

"Careful" Jon said in his gruff northern voice, catching her by the elbow so that she didn't fall flat on her face. Shae giggled loudly beside them and Sansa joined in.

"I feel as light as air" She said happily to Jon.

"Aye, a barrel of wine will do that to you." Jon grinned "Come on, lets get you to your chamber before you fall asleep in the entrance hall."

As they left the hall Sansa spotted Osha sitting at a table with her Northern singer Abel.

Causing Jon to groan, she danced over to them and said to Osha confidently "Sonya isn't with child."

Osha raised an eyebrow "Oh really and how do you know that?"

"I asked her" Sansa said as though it was obvious.

"And she didn't tell you that she was with child, out of wedlock, at a feast full of people, that includes her own parents and her lord and lady?" Osha asked with sarcasm "That truly is shocking."

Sansa was too drunk to come up with a witty reply and so she merely stuck her tongue out. Both Jon and the singer chuckled.

"I think this one's had too much to drink Snow," Abel smiled "Best get her to bed."

"Aye" Jon agreed, trying to steer her back to the doorway where Shae was twirling around happily by herself.

But Sansa once again danced out of Jon's grip "You…" she decided looking down quizzically at Abel "...have a very unu...unusual accent. Most of the time it's Northern but sometimes there's other stuff."

Osha stilled but Abel merely leaned back in his seat and looked as though he were appraising her "Aye, I've heard you have an ear for accents."

"She's just drunk, that's all" Jon said quickly, grabbing her elbow and steering her away.

"He sounds like Osha" she decided.

"For gods' sake Sansa, not in the hall" Jon hissed.

He needn't have worried though, the only people in hearing range were a snoring guard and Shae who was singing _The Maids that Bloom in Spring_ to the tapestries on the walls. Sansa linked arms with her and together they giggled and sang as poor Jon tried to steer them to their quarters without waking her parents, the Lannisters or the King whom had all retired hours earlier.

"Winterfell is such fun, they told me it would be so dreary but there is many a good time had here" Shae beamed as they arrived outside Sansa's bedchamber.

Sansa wanted to ask who 'they' were but instead hugged Shae closer to her side "We are not nearly so cold here as they like to paint dear Shae. Winterfell is built on hot springs and the people here run just as warm" She ignored Jon rolling his eyes behind Shae's back, he seemed to have caught on to what she was doing about half way through cards.

She sighed and then pouted "Oh no, I wanted to read _Tales of the Jade Sea_ before bed but Theon still has my copy. Shae, would you be a sweetling and fetch it for me?"

Shae's eyes sparked with wicked delight and she shared an impish smile with Sansa before dancing off in the direction of Theon's chambers.

"I thought you wanted Kitty to bed Theon" Jon said as they both watched her disappear down the darkened corridor.

"It’s a woman's right to change her mind." Sansa said leaning back against the door with satisfaction.

"Aye and you're a woman, are you?" Jon asked with laughing eyes.

"Don't you think I'm a woman?" She pouted, she knew she was playing a dangerous game but was too drunk to care.

Jon chuckled awkwardly under his breath "I don't think I'm best placed to answer that" He answered quietly.

"Come along, I have something to show you" Sansa said grabbing the front of his jerkin.

" _Sansa!"_ Jon hissed with wide eyes as she pulled him into her chamber and closed the door behind them.

She skipped over to her desk and pulled out a sheaf of letters from the bottom drawer "Look."

The room was filled with a dark golden glow, Kitty must have stoked the fire before going to bed. Fresh lavender had been put in the vase giving the air a pleasant fragrance.

Jon wandered over, smoothing his jerkin and stood beside her. He looked over the letters with curiosity "These are the replies?"

"Yes, they started arriving while you were at Long Lake." Sansa said picking up a letter at random "Darna Longwaters is to send fifty bags of grain to the Night's Watch."

Jon nodded and his dark stubbled jaw twitched "Fifty whole bags...very impressive."

Sansa whacked him lightly with the letter "I'd like to see you do better."

"Very well" He paused and then smirked at her "Ser Arys has promised me two hundred bags of carrots and seventy chickens from House Oakheart." His sole triumph of the last hunting trip into the Wolfswood.

Sansa glared at him and picked up three more letters "Lady Ysilla Redfort promises two hundred bags of grain and fifteen chests of steel weapons, Lady Fossoway offers forty barrels of apples from Cider Hall and Lady Rhonda promises a ship full of grain, meat and prisoners from House Hightower with the proviso that you host a maester of the Citadel at Castle Black who wishes to study…" she squinted at the words on the page, the late hour and wine made them blurry and gave her a headache "...something to do with astronomy although I'm not sure how being at the Wall will help with that."

"I'm not complaining" Jon said with shining pleased eyes "This is incredible Sansa."

Sansa shrugged and tried not to blush "I don't know if it's enough to last you through winter...Some people in the south are honorable Jon, you only have to ask."

" _You_ only have to ask" Jon corrected flipping through the other letters on her desk "Somehow I don't think that an unknown bastard would receive quite the same response as the charming, lovely Lady Sansa."

This time Sansa did blush, and she felt her stomach flip. She watched Jon read and wondered sadly why there couldn't be men like him in Kings Landing or Casterly Rock.

Jon laughed "Your friend Lady Crakehall has offered to send us one hundred pairs of ladies shoes, she says she will send us dye so we can paint them black."

Sansa sighed "Poor Lady Agata. I'll write to Jeyne Westerling, her great uncle is a merchant, he can sell the shoes and send you the gold. From what I can remember her collection should fetch a good price."

As Jon continued to read, Sansa picked up one of the letters from the Tarly girls. They and their mother had both written lengthy scrolls to be passed on to Samwell but Lord Tarly had refused stubbornly to spare anything for those at the Wall. Meanwhile the Tyrells, Seretts, Freys, Blackmonts and many others had expressed sympathy and praised the valiant brothers of the Nights Watch but lamented that they could not spare anything this winter.

"Who's Harry?"

Alarm run through her blood as Sansa looked up to see Jon frowning darkly down at the translated letter that should have been burnt along with the original.

"Nobody...its nothing" She said quickly trying to take the letter back.

Jon was too tall though and he held it out of her reach "Its not nothing" he said with a clenched jaw. With his other hand, he grabbed her wrist to try to stop her desperate attempts to snatch it "Why is...ow"

Sansa had kicked him in the shin causing him to buckle in pain so she could grab the letter.

"Sansa!" He hissed, chasing her across the room. Sansa was faster though and she threw the dratted thing in the flames and watched it burn.

"It's nothing" she repeated, her voice breaking. "It's just…"

" _Just what?_ Sansa why is that man writing to you?" Jon demanded furiously "Why is this _'Harry'_ writing to you, talking about missing you and... wanting to kiss you and…"

He seemed unable to get the words out.

"It’s not your concern." Sansa protested, her voice half sobbing.

"Not my...of course its my bloody concern!" Jon shouted.

"Shh...Arya" Sansa pleaded for their sister was only on the other side of the wall "Please Jon...it doesn't matter, it was mistake."

"Oh it was a mistake, was it?" Jon laughed darkly "And pray tell me who you made this _mistake_ with so that I may take his head."

"Jon, please don't talk so" Sansa cried.

"Sansa, this...this excuse for a man dishonored you. Whatever sweet words that boy put in your ear, he put your life in danger. If Tyrion or the Lannisters find out…"

"I know what would happen if they find out" Sansa cut over him and fixed her eyes on him, pleading him to understand "I know….that's why I sent him away. It's over with...I know it was wrong but its done now."

"It's not done with if he's writing you letters" Jon huffed, running his hand through his hair. He seemed to have calmed down not but was no less upset "Who is he?"

"I told you it doesn't matter" Sansa argued.

" _Tell me the boy's name!_ "

"It's not your concern" Sansa repeated and her panic had begun to give way to anger "I don't ask you why Abel sounds like Osha and you shouldn't ask me..."

"That's different" Jon said walking towards her and leaning over her with dark eyes "This is about your safety. He dishonored you and…"

"And how many women have you dishonored Jon Snow?" Sansa countered sharply "Or do you mean to tell me that you are still a maid and expect me to believe it?"

She wanted him to deny it. She wasn't sure why, she didn't care to know why but she wanted Jon proclaim that he'd always remained true to his Nights Watch vows.

Instead Jon took a step back and looked guiltily at the ground and Sansa's gut twisted

"T...That's…" He stuttered.

"Different?" Sansa sneered "It's ok for you, Robb and Theon to take comfort in the arms of someone warm and caring but I must live my life alone and untouched unless it be by my husband, a man who pities and laughs at me? A man whom I could never love"

As she spoke Jon retreated to the hearth, he rested his hands on the mantle and stared soberly into the flames at the ashes of the burnt parchment.

Sansa tasted salt on her lip and she realized that she had been crying - she had been so happy earlier. Quickly she wiped her eyes clean on the back of her sleeve.

"I'm sorry" Jon whispered in a hoarse voice by the fire "You're right, you deserve comfort. You shouldn't be alone."

She let his apology hang in the air for a while but it wasn't as satisfying as she hoped. Instead thoughts crept up of the woman or women Jon had been with. The insides of her chest twisted as she wondered whether they had been servants, wildlings or whores.

"His name is Ser Harrold Hardyng" Sansa stated quietly "He's the great nephew of Lord Arryn. My uncle invited him to Kings Landing to get to know him better."

"And is he gallant, this Ser Harry?" Jon asked in a bitter voice.

"I don't know, he's never had to prove himself" Sansa said, "He's a bit of an idiot really" Jon snorted and she thought she saw a flicker of a smile "He was kind though, a rare thing in Kings Landing...I...I was very lonely and it _truly_ is over."

Jon rubbed his beard thoughtfully and turned round "Ygritte" he said, not looking at her.

"Pardon."

"Ygritte, that's the name of the woman I loved" Jon said and the sadness that lay in his eyes filled Sansa with pity "I wouldn't have you thinking I spend my nights at the Molestown brothel."

"I didn't think ...she was a wildling?" Sansa guessed, she fiddled with her fingers as she asked, nervous of Jon's response.

"Aye" Jon nodded .

Of course she was. Of course the woman he loved was a wildling.

"What happened?"

"When she found out I was spying on the wildlings, she put three arrows in me" Sansa gasped but Jon's eyes merely shone fondly at the memory. "Then...then she was killed at the Battle of Castle Black."

His words were wretched and drenched in misery.

Sansa edged towards her brother slowly and tentatively reached out to hug him. Jon brought up his arms around her and held her close.

"I'm sorry" Sansa whispered "She sounds brave."

"Aye she was" Jon whispered sadly into her hair. He loosened his arms a little and still holding her looked her at her before sighing heavily "Sansa...maybe it shouldn't be but it is different. The Lannisters won't hurt me for loving Ygritte but they will hurt you for Hardyng."

"I know" Sansa admitted "But it _is_ over now. He's gone to Runestone. I'll send a raven telling him not to write to me again and I’ll never see him again, I promise. He'll soon forget me."

She said these last few words into Jon's shoulder for although Harry was an idiot and at times an inelegant lech, at times she still missed him.

"Oh sweet girl" Jon sighed, kissing the crown of her head "It would take a strong man who could forget you."

* * *

"I know how you can get more coin" Sansa said quietly.

They were no longer holding each other but sat on the bear skin rug in front of the fireplace. The drunken gaiety and angry words seemed to have exhausted them both into a lethargy. Sansa's head was resting on Jon's shoulder and he was carelessly playing with the tips of her fingers. There was a ghost of melancholy on his long face and she wondered if he was thinking of his lost wildling love.

"Aye, and how's that?" Jon asked with a lazy smile.

"You won't like it." Sansa warned.

"I don't have to like it, go on."

"You could sell Longclaw. Both the Lannisters and Tyrells would pay many gold dragons to have a Valyrian steel sword in their house's possession."

Jon's playing fingers stilled and his head fell back onto the chair seat behind with a groan "I wish you hadn't told me that."

"What is it with men and swords?" Sansa wondered idly "The Hound wouldn't speak to me for a fortnight after I spilled Dornish Red on his blade."

"It's like...It's like its an extension of your arm...its part of you." Jon tried to explain earnestly.

"It’s a steel pointy thing" Sansa replied "There are thousands of them, tens of thousands."

"Not made of Valyrian Steel, they're aren’t." Jon argued "When a man runs at you with hate in his eyes, when his sole want is to rip out your heart or crush your skull...your sword is your protector. It's more than an object, it's like...a friend...or a brother."

Sansa frowned, she didn't really understand and she didn't like thinking about Jon or the men in her family fighting. She had been so terrified during the War Beyond the Wall. Back then her thoughts and prayers had mostly turned to Robb and her Father and wild images of them fighting cannibals and corpses in the snow.

Jon said the cannibals were a lie but the murderous corpses were real.

Harry had found her once, in the Godswood in Kings Landing, crying and praying. That was the first night he had kissed her.

"How much do you think its worth?" Jon asked quietly, he started playing with her finger tips again.

Sansa sighed and tried to remember a long ago dinner conversation between her goodfather and Lord Drumm of Old Wyk "I don't know but…"

_CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!_

They both jumped to their feet and Jon ran to the window with eyes widened in alarm, looking around for some cause of the ringing bells.

"I forgot" Sansa whispered "Quick you have to go"

She tugged him over to the door and pushed him out into the still empty corridors.

"What is it?" Jon asked with urgency.

_CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!_

"Nothing of danger" Sansa hissed, fearful of what would happen if he was caught "Go!"

As soon as the door was closed, she pulled off her dress, ripping the stays in her urgency and then pulled loose her hair from its intricately held braids. Around her she could hear the movement from the family quarters and shouting. She hoped Osha would get away in time. _I'll speak for her if she doesn't._

Sansa threw a robe over her shift, her eyes were still a little red from crying earlier and she looked as if she had just woken up.

She stepped back into the corridor, which was now full of alarmed Starks in their nightclothes. Her worried mother was balancing a bawling Hosten on one hip while clutching Rickon's shoulder. Robb had his sword drawn and was giving instructions to some guards while Bran and Arya fought over a stairwell window that offered a good view of the Bell Tower.

Meanwhile Theon and Shae, stood half dressed and red faced, as though they wanted to sink into the stone walls of the corridor.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sansa saw Tyrion, his eyes dark with anger as he glared at them and his face broken with betrayal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think so far? All criticism (both positive and negative) is welcome.


	11. A flagon of ale and a barred front door

**Sansa**

The ringing of the bells was put down to errant squires or unknown stable lads, drunk on ale and mischief and Lady Catelyn dismissed Shae from the castle that very next day. Sansa's maid was given a purse of coin, a guide and a letter from Lady Stark to take to Lady Tallhart at Torrhen's Square requesting that employment be found for her.

Tyrion, however, did not emerge from his room until the third day after Shae's betrayal when he joined Sansa in their shared dining chamber for breakfast. He was unshaven, stinking of drink and missing his doublet.

Kitty pursed her lips in disapproval and even Bronn looked faintly embarrassed. Sansa quickly sent her maid on an errand to the washhouse.

"You seek to send more of your ladies away from me dear wife?" Sansa's husband sneered once Kitty had left the solar, he poured milk onto his porridge splashing small pools on the table with an uncertain aim.

Sansa flinched "No, I...I am merely in need of my walking dress."

Tyrion glared at her with dark angry eyes "I know what you did" he said and a chill went down Sansa's spine as she remembered him saying those same words to Joffrey.

She gazed down at the table before looking meaningfully at Bronn, the sellsword gave a resigned sigh and left too.

"You know not to be in your cups in front of Kitty my lord" Sansa said quietly but firmly.

"You planned this, did you not think I wouldn't see you throw Theon at her throughout the feast? Pouring wine down their throats" Tyrion sneered "You think me fool enough to believe that the bells rang all by themselves? You are still just a child at this game Sansa."

"I…I didn't..." Sansa stuttered, she wasn't used to Tyrion being angry with her. Mocking, yes but never angry.

"You….? What? You don't want to bed me but you won't have anyone else do it?" Tyrion laughed darkly.

"She was spying on you for the Queen" Sansa said meekly "It was she who told your sister that we are headed for the Free Cities instead Kings Landing."

"I don't believe you" Tyrion hissed but there was a flicker of resignation in his eyes, almost as though he had almost been expecting it.

"Yes you do, she was the only other who knew, you told her" Sansa said and it was hard to hide her annoyance that he had jeopardised their safety in order to confide in a woman whom he knew didn't love him "I'm sorry that you're hurt but this is for the best, you know it is."

"She didn't love me" Tyrion spat and Sansa wasn't sure if he was angry at her or himself "But gods how I loved her."

"There will be others" Sansa tried to say, but it came out awkward and stilted "Others who will truly love you." She reached over and gave his hand an awkward pat that was meant to be reassuring.

"Like you?" He challenged.

Sansa's stomach twisted, she withdrew her hand and her gaze fell back to the table.

Tyrion laughed bitterly "Somehow I thought not." The chair scraped and he stood up "And so my watch begins. Tell Bronn to be a good boy and bring me enough wine to drown myself in." he said retreating to his bedchamber.

Sansa sighed and quietly finished her breakfast before exiting their chambers. She did not search out Bronn, the sellsword would undoubtedly seek out her husband at some point but she had no desire to help Tyrion drink himself to death.

Instead Sansa went in search of Osha, the wildling wasn't in the nursery, which was empty but for a scullery maid scrubbing the floor so she headed to the Godswood and left the Great Keep by way of the raised bridge which connected the keep with the armory, stopping to look out at the courtyard below. Theon was mucking out the pig sties, his punishment for 'ruining' Shae. Robb and Bran were watching and laughing.

Sansa thought about what Tyrion had said - _You are still just a child at this game_ \- at times she had wondered if Tyrion knew about Harry. _He can't, he would've punished me if he known_.

Harry had been her only comfort since leaving Winterfell. She had given her maidenhead to him because he wanted it and because she didn't want Joffrey or Tyrion to get it. She couldn't stop Joffrey's torments, but she could make sure he would never take her most precious gift. They had only had the chance to come together a few times in the dark hidden spaces of the Kings Landing Godswood where no southerner went. Harry seemed to like it, but it had been awkward and fumbling for Sansa most of the time, all but the last time when his fingers had given her exquisite pleasure. A bitter pleasure for her cheeks were still wet from tears for Podrick Payne.

She had liked how he held her though, before, during and afterwards. Lord Arryn had been kind, Tyrion had been kind, the ladies she had met were pleasant to talk to but only Harry held her in strong warm arms and listened to her with attentive ears. The only person who had ever truly listened to her...until Jon.

Jon had held her too last night with warm strong arms. It made her cheeks warm in the cold winter air and she forced herself to think once more of Harry.

As they had ridden up the Kingsroad Sansa had missed Harry with a painful ache. An ache that was made more painful by the loss of her uncle and guilt over Podrick's death. Somehow, however, that ached had dulled over time, it was still there, only it hurt less.

She remembered Jon's dark grey eyes.

Sansa was pulled from her reverie by heavy footsteps on the bridge and she looked up to see the Hound coming towards her.

"So that's the punishment for a harmless fumble with a loose ladies maid." He said, stopping by her and following her gaze to filthy Theon, picking himself up from the muck after being knocked down by a heavy sow.

"You think noblemen should take maids for their own pleasure and then cast them out like old boots once done?"

"That girl was ruined before Greyjoy ever set eyes on her and you know it" Clegane levelled with her "And your father would do better to better than to humiliate the heir to the Iron Islands. Balon Greyjoy won't live forever."

Sansa had never really thought about what would happen to Theon, but she supposed the Hound was right, Theon couldn't stay at Winterfell forever.

"Better that he learns the value of a woman's virtue now then, before he returns to rule isles full of reavers." Sansa said primly "Besides Theon loves my father and brothers, a harmless punishment doesn't change that."

The Hound chuckled "Still a Little Bird believing in songs of fairness and gallantry. You underestimate the pain of hurt pride, there is a beast in every man ready to strike when the darkness comes."

"There are some men with good hearts and honourable souls." Sansa said.

Clegane snorted "Like who? Point me out this miraculous paragon of virtue."

"I don't have to point him out, I'm looking at him" Sansa said looking straight into mean eyes which fell into utter befuddlement. Joffrey would have raped her years ago had Sandor Clegane not been there, subtly guiding his master away at dangerous moments "You protected me in Kings Landing and I will never forget that."

And Sansa left him with his mouth gaping on the bridge. She would miss the Hound in the Free Cities.

Osha wasn't in the Godswood but Sansa found her in the kitchens, sitting by one of the fireplaces. She held a wriggling Dallan on her lap and was trying to feed him porridge. The kitchen staff bowed and curtseyed as Sansa passed them and took a seat next to Osha, she waited for them to get back to work and turn their heads before speaking.

"I wanted to say thank you." Sansa said quietly "For your help with Shae."

"You already said thank you" Osha replied suspiciously.

"That was with words" Sansa said and she slipped Osha a small pouch. The wildling woman had already had her hands full so Sansa took the porridge and began to feed Dallan so that she might inspect the silver stags within "For your services."

Osha gave a sly smile as she inspected the coins and then to Sansa's confusion she handed it back.

"It's not enough?"

Osha laughed mockingly "This is more than I make in a year Princess"

"Don't call me princess" Sansa chided, embarrassed that she had made such a poor calculation, nobody had ever told her how much servants were paid, that was what stewards were for.

"I don't want coin."

"Then what do you want."

Osha looked at her with knowing eyes that made Sansa feel rather wary "I'll let you know m'lady."

**Jon**

Though the prospect caused him no little pain, following Sansa's words, Jon consulted Lord Stark on how much Longclaw might be worth. His father was disturbed as Jon had been at the idea of him selling his sword.

"I know the Night's Watch is in need but if you sell Longclaw then you will likely never wield Valyrian Steel again, do you understand?"

"I do." Jon said simply

"Lord Mormont gave you that blade in return for saving his life, it would be a poor way to repay him by sending it south into the hands of Tywin Lannister or Mace Tyrell." Ned Stark argued.

"The Night's Watch was the life of the Lord Commander, his purpose, he would do whatever it took to protect the Wall."

"You won't starve, I am not so poor as to allow the Nights Watch to starve during winter" His father said "There is no reason to do this."

Jon sighed, he did not tell his father that Sansa had done more to feed the Nights Watch than Winterfell had in the past moon. "We need more than food, we need men and men won't come to live in drafty barracks and fight with wooden swords. We need coin to attract those men, arm them and put them on horseback."

"Mance Rayder will not dare attack during winter, you said so yourself."

"It is not Rayder that worries me." Jon said lowly to his father. He knew what worried Jon, he just refused to admit it.

Lord Stark gave a heavy sigh and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his forehead in frustration "We have talked about this, there is no proof…"

"There is every proof, you're just stubborn to hear it...or maybe too scared."

 _I could tell him right now_ Jon thought wildly _I could tell him that Mance is in Winterfell and Skagos overflows with wildlings who have all seen the Others…_. _I could watch his face fall as he realises the lies I have told, the betrayals I have done, of the justice he must carry out._

Ned Stark gave him a hard stare "Careful boy, I am still your Lord and your father" He warned "And you would live a happier, better life if you didn't heed the lies of enemy wildlings and those riddled with wartime madness."

_I've fought them, I've told you a hundred times that I've fought them._

"You are not my Lord anymore, I am a man of the Night's Watch. Mallister is my lord" Jon corrected "But I value your wisdom and counsel, how much do you think Longclaw could be sold for?"

"I don't know...but it would be a vast sum" Jon's father admitted regretfully "Send ravens to Casterly Rock and Highgarden both, have them outbid each other. And don't blame me when you sit out the winter with nothing to do with your armed men but play dice."

After he had met with his father, Jon crossed the courtyard of Winterfell and climbed the crumbling steps of the Broken Tower where he found Mance. This time Mance kept watch from the window while Jon told him of the plan to sell Longclaw.

"We could do with more food but we have enough to last us some time yet. What we really need is dragonglass if we're to have any hope of fighting the army of the dead."

Stannis had told them of a mountain of dragonglass buried below Dragonstone, he had promised to bring it back north with him, he'd promised to bring back a King's army with him too...a promise that had led to madness and the murder of an innocent child.

"Joffrey is Prince of Dragonstone now and the island is in the stewardship of his great uncle Stafford Lannister. Maester Aemon sent a raven to Lannister to feel him out but the man won't sell a pound of anything without Joffrey's say so." Jon revealed.

"Aye and we both know what a cunt the prince is" Mance said, sounding more aggravated than usual when talking about the royal family "You'd do well to keep him clear of your sisters."

"Aye" Jon said darkly, he knew well how Joffrey and the other Lannisters liked to mock and taunt Sansa "But It wouldn't matter if he were Aemon the Dragonknight, we can't involve a member of the royal family without drawing undue attention."

If Jon had his way the dragonglass would go to the Nights Watch where it could be stored by sworn brothers and wielded by trained men. But Mallister was as blind to the Others as his father so it would have to go to the freefolk.

Mance huffed with impatience "It’s a poor show if we've finally got enough coin to pay for the bloody stuff but the castellan won't budge."

"Couldn't you raid the island?" Jon asked hopefully, that way they could spend the coin on horses or even sell swords.

But Mance shook his head "I daren't risk it. Even with Davos. We barely know the terrain, we don't know where the dragonglass is and we'd have to be there long enough to mine it and carry it back to the ship. Someone would get caught, they'd be tortured and they'd talk. We need a way to bend Stafford Lannister to our will. Blackmail, bribery or something."

But Jon shook his head "That's a dangerous game, we might bring even more attention to ourselves. We don't know what kind of man Lannister is."

"No but your sister does."

"Sansa?" Jon frowned and then his voice hardened "No, I'm not getting her involved in this."

"She's already involved in this" Mance scoffed "She knows who Osha is and she's getting a fair idea of who I am too. She can keep a secret that one."

"It's one thing for her to know you're wildlings, its another to ask her to commit treason to Lord Stark and the crown" Jon hissed angrily.

"It's only information we need boy." Mance waved away "Are you really prepared to send thousands to face the Others without dragonglass, all because you won't ask your sister a simple question."

But it wasn't, Mance could make excuses all he wanted but Jon was finally beginning to see what was happening. Mance had turned the situation with Sansa to his advantage and he was slowly drawing her further in. It angered his blood.

Jon would ask her the bloody question about Stafford Lannister because what choice did he have but he'd be damned if he let Rayder turn Sansa into his spy in the south. He'd wouldn't have Sansa's life in danger like that, he wouldn't let her live with that same gnawing guilt, day in day out, that meant she could barely look her own family in the eye.

After he left the Broken Tower, Jon ran into Theon, who for the first time in several days wasn't covered in pig shit but looked clean and was wearing his favourite black doublet embroidered with a golden kraken. Jon felt disappointed, seeing Theon covered in pig shit might've helped soothe his dark mood.

"That's a bit fancy for the sows, isn't it?" Jon japed at him, nodding towards the fine clothes.

"Piss off Snow" Theon grumbled, "This is for the Princess, or did you forget the rehearsal?"

Jon groaned, he _had_ forgotten. He'd wanted to train.

The rehearsal for Princess Myrcella's play was taking place in Marna's Hall, Theon immediately left Jon's side as they entered and ran to put Robb into a headlock in return for Robb's earlier mockery. Jon watched them tussle for a few moments enviously, he wished he could join but he felt too old for that now. In the corner the princess's musicians were playing whilst Myrcella herself was going through the script with her elder brother and Arya. Jon remembered Mance's warning, but then he saw the foul expression on Arya's face was only matched by the one on Joffrey's.

Good, he would only have to worry about Sansa.

The lady in question was sitting on her own at the side of a hall sewing a blue and green cloak. Jon assumed from its rough patching that it was for the play as it wasn't nearly so finished as Sansa's usual work. He went to sit beside her.

"I've spoken to father and I'm going to sell Longclaw" he told her.

Sansa gave him a sad smile, she didn't understand why some swords were special but she knew Longclaw was special to him and that was enough "I'm sorry Jon"

Jon shrugged in what he hoped was a careless manner "It has to be done."

Sansa hmm'd in agreement and carried on sewing. She was quieter than usual, normally she had some gossip to share or a question to ask. He watched her sew for a while, looking at her dainty fingers. Her skin looked smooth.

"Are you ok?" he eventually asked.

"Hmm...oh yes" Sansa said distractedly.

"I'm sorry for how I spoke to you the other night" Jon said, he didn't want to bring up Hardyng, he hated the idea of him but maybe Sansa was still upset about it. "It wasn't my place."

"No it wasn't" Sansa replied and then after a few moments she confessed "Tyrion still hasn't forgiven me...or maybe he has. I can't tell, he spends all his time locked up in his room drinking."

"You're worried for him"

Sansa nodded "I know he is not the best husband in the realm, but he protects me in his own way. I don't know what I'd do without him."

Jon wanted to say that he'd protect her. He wanted to protect her...but he couldn't, his place was at the Wall and hers was in the south with the Lannisters.

"It won't last, he will heal in time." Jon said, for it was the only thing it could think of saying.

The rehearsal had started now and Jon and Sansa watched as Robb and Myrcella began their narration. The first scene showed Theon, the sea god wooing Rosamund, the wind goddess. Jon tried not to laugh at Robb's stilted narration or the flowery words of love that Theon was forced to say and out of the corner of his eye he saw Sansa's mouth twitch a little. But then her expression fell once more into melancholy, she looked so beautiful even when sad.

"Maybe...maybe I could talk to Tyrion?" Jon suggested.

"I doubt there's anything anyone could say that would make him happy at this time" Sansa replied, then she paused and looked down at her sewing in thought "But...maybe there is something you could do, if you are willing?"

"What is it?"

Sansa looked around to check that no one was in hearing range. In the middle of the hall Arya and Joffrey were very reluctantly acting out the scene of Elenei and Durran's first meeting on the Stormlands shores. Jon was thankful that as a bastard, his role was small.

"I think Tyrion would take comfort from a woman" Sansa said carefully "Only it would be difficult for him to go anywhere without my parents finding out."

Jon's jaw hardened "You want me to sneak him to the brothel"

It was one thing for Sansa to look the other way when Tyrion dishonoured her, it was another thing for Jon to actively assist her husband in said dishonouring in their own family seat.

"Please Jon" Sansa begged "It can be your way of repaying me after speaking so harshly the other evening."

Jon sighed and leaned forward putting his head in his hands. He really didn't want to do this but he did feel guilty for how he had spoken to her and he was growing more in her debt by the day.

"Aye alright." He sighed.

"Thank you" Sansa said softly and reached down to squeeze his hand in gratitude, it felt...nice.

"What are you two talking about?" Robb was standing over them and Sansa and Jon snatched their hands back instantly. Jon thought about how strange the scene must look to him, for all Robb knew, he and Sansa were near strangers.

"Randyll Tarly" Sansa lied smoothly.

"Why would you be talking of Lord Tarly?" Robb snorted, his suspicion replaced with confusion.

"Because he's the father of one of my friends and of Jon's sworn brother" Sansa explained.

"And an arse" Jon added bitterly, his hand still tingled from where Sansa had touched it.

"Oh, all right" Robb nodded apparently satisfied "Come on, you're up next."

Sansa went on first, she was the Lady of the Moon who conspired with the Goddess of the Wind to shine brightly on Durran and Elenei so they might be watched. Jon watched from the sidelines, she had put on a white cloak and looked lovely as she acted alongside Rosamund. He stretched out his fingers trying to get rid of the sensation of her skin on his. Memories of holding her the other night bubbled up in the back of his mind and he tried to stamp them down but they would not leave.

Feeling panicked he marched on quickly when his part came, eager to get it over with. He felt sick and if he could just get to the training yard and hit something then he was sure to feel better.

"No!" Princess Myrcella protested as Jon pulled Sansa off the stage by the crook in her elbow "You can't just drag her off."

"I thought I was supposed to" Jon frowned. That was the story wasn't it? Durran prayed to the Cloud God who took away the moon's light and allowed the lovers to hide in the darkness.

"Yes but not like that" Myrcella protested "You have to carry her, its more dramatic."

Jon felt his throat go rather dry.

It was fine, he was fine.

In one quick movement Jon swept Sansa up into his arms and she breathed "Oh" in surprise, clutching at his neck to steady herself. It shouldn't feel like that, he shouldn't keep thinking how lovely she looked…how right it felt to have her body pressed against his.

Jon did his best not to look at her as he strode quickly across the stage before dropping her onto a bench with as much grace as a sack of turnips.

He then marched from the hall, thinking very forcefully sparring swords and footwork.

* * *

When Jon was a boy, Theon used to tease him that his mother lived in the brothel in Wintertown. Jon had known it wasn't true, he knew that he had been born in the south but the thought of the place still unnerved him. Theon and Robb had taken him there on the eve before he joined the watch so he would know a woman for the very first and last time.

Jon hadn't gone through with it, he couldn't bare the idea that he might father a bastard and he was disturbed by thoughts that his mother might live in a place like that.

Even now, when he knew his mother had never been a whore, he still disliked brothels for they were where bastards were born.

The Wintertown brothel itself was a small building made of white washed stone with a low thatched roof.

"Not exactly the Street of Silk is it?" Tyrion said, his eyes sweeping the muddy streets of Wintertown and falling on a broken down cart.

"It has its charms" replied his sellsword Bronn who had tagged along with them.

It was dark inside but for the roaring fires which gave the rooms a warm glow. On their entrance, the women jumped to attention moving forward eagerly and they were greeted by an older woman with long wavy walnut hair, the owner Mistress Myriame.

"My Lords, we are honoured by your presence" Her painted eyes rested on Tyrion, no doubt she had heard tales of Lannister wealth.

"We're not lords" Jon said gruffly.

"Every man who visits this house is a lord First Ranger Snow" the mistress said. He told himself that she knew his name from earlier in the day when he had paid her to keep the brothel empty in advance of their arrival, but he couldn't help but feel shame on wondering if she remembered his failed visit from years earlier.

"And that's why this is the most heavenly place north of the Neck" Bronn said, kissing the Mistress's hand "The usual if you please."

"Of course, Josephyne" Myriame snapped her fingers and a busty whore with curly hair darted forward before leading Bronn into one of the back rooms. She then turned to Tyrion.

"Line them up, I would like to see them in the firelight first" Tyrion ordered removing his gloves.

Myriame shooed the girls into an orderly line by one of the hearths and as Tyrion inspected she turned to Jon "And you Ranger Snow, what do you desire?"

"A flagon of ale and a barred front door" Jon said and he fell back into a booth near Tyrion. It was warm and so he removed his cloak and gloves.

Tyrion was pacing up and down the line of whores, the night air and long walk from the castle seemed to have sobered him up a bit. He had complained the whole way about wanting to take horses but that would have made it harder to sneak out the gate. Jon curled his lip as he watched Tyrion pace, the dwarf acted as though he were at a cattle fair.

"You are not partaking Snow?" Tyrion questioned circling one particularly scantily clad whore who had let her left sleeve fall to expose the curve of her breast. Jon forced himself to look at the woodwork grain of the table, he hated it here but he was still a man and he was still affected.

"I'm a man of the Night's Watch." he told Tyrion.

"And I am a man wedded...to your sister no less but you don't see me denying what is freely given."

"Its not free" Jon pointed out.

Tyrion's face twisted in a sort of sad smirk "Good point." He addressed the whores "Ladies, I am unable to make a decision without more intelligence. I will give each who displays her teats a gold dragon."

The women giggled and their eyes all shone with delight , likely they only got coppers from Stark guards and second later twenty bare breasts were on display in the firelight. Jon felt his breeches tighten and he snapped his eyes back to the table, his mood darkening.

"It never is free for dwarves" Tyrion murmured and Jon heard him pace more before stopping "If I fuck this one I can pretend its Sansa."

Jon's jaw clenched "Careful Lannister."

Tyrion laughed bitterly "I mean no offense Snow. Sansa's the perfect wife - silent, beautiful, biddable...well not completely biddable of course, that's why she gets her brother to escort me to places like this. Such a thoughtful way to keep me out of her bed."

Jon gulped down more ale. He didn't want to think about Tyrion in Sansa's bed, the pair didn't act married and so Jon pretended that they weren’t. Sansa trusted and respected Tyrion but it was Hardyng she had gone to for comfort and companionship.

Finally Tyrion said "I'll take these two" and unable to stop himself Jon looked up and saw Tyrion taking two whores of raven and golden hair. He looked around at the other bare breasted women, only one of them had red hair and Jon thought she looked nothing like Sansa.

 _Stop comparing your sister to bare breasted whores_.

She _was his sister_. That's why he reveled in her company after being so long estranged, that's why he was protective of her with Mance, that's why he hated the idea of Ser Harrold Hardyng dishonouring her or Tyrion forcing his way into her bed.

Jon drained the ale and listened to the winter winds battering the outside stone walls. He thought of Longclaw and of soon parting from it. He thought of the stupid play, his blind father and a neglectful king. He thought of lying to Robb and the look in Arya's eyes when the day came that she found out he had betrayed House Stark.

"You look as though you could do with cheering up." It was the red headed whore, her teats were covered up now and she sat down at the table opposite him with another flagon of ale. "Men call me Merry, I could make you merry."

Jon accepted the ale gratefully, his thoughts were full of nothing but darkness and guilt and he wanted to numb them "How can you do this?" He asked, he had always wanted to know "How can you work in a place like this?"

Merry rolled her eyes, she was older than Ygritte and Sansa, rounder and more buxom than both but she had Ygritte's worldly eyes and Sansa's full red lips "You're not one of those godly sorts are you. My soul doesn't need saving."

"I never said it did" Jon replied "But men can be cruel beasts, I should know , I've seen the worst of them at the Wall"

The woman laughed "Is that why you're sat here drinking - because you prefer your man beasts back at the Wall?"

"Not quite"

Merry smirked "No, I saw you looking at my teats earlier. I'll let you put your face between them if you like?" She offered "For twenty groats. For a silver stag you can put your cock there."

Jon felt himself stiffen and swallowed down more ale "No thanks" he said in a hoarse voice.

"I don't mind you know. My mother called me a slattern and slapped me when she found out this was how I make coin but I'm warm all day while she toils in frozen fields" Merry said "That's how I can do this. You say its dangerous and it is but in winter empty larders and barren fields can be crueller than any man in his cups."

"Aye, I suppose there's truth in that." Jon agreed.

She leaned forward and touched his hand softly and Jon was instantly reminded of Sansa who had held the same hand earlier "Are you sure you don't want to take me in the back room? I'll make you smile I swear" she said "I can make you happy, at least for a little while."

Jon shook his head mournfully. A woman like her, with a sharp mind and who was kissed by fire could never make him happy.

Merry sighed and retreated to the far side of the room where she joined some of the other women in playing cards.

_Knock! Knock!_

The door to the brothel rattled with heavy knocks "We're closed" called out Myriame.

"Not to me, you're not."

It was the Kingslayer. Jon knew Bronn had invited him but when he hadn't showed Jon had hoped they be free of his company "Let him in" Jon sighed.

Myriame unbarred the door and a blast of cold air and snow blew into the room as Jaime Lannister entered. It ceased as soon as the door was closed.

"My brother is already at work then?" Lannister asked approaching Jon and he took Merry's old seat. "I'll have wine."

Myriame hurried forward with a flagon of hot mulled wine "Would you care for any company to warm you Ser Jaime?" she asked.

"The wine will warm me fine enough" Lannister said dismissing her and then as she walked away, looked around him and sneered "Gods what a hovel."

"You could have stayed in Winterfell" Jon said shortly.

The Kingslayer gave him a mocking smile "My brother is in need so I came."

"Did the guards see you?"

"Of course they saw me but why should that matter? I'm not the one wedded to Lady Sansa" Lannister mocked "I could be riding to my death for all anyone at Winterfell would care."

Jon raised an eyebrow "Do you expect me to feel sorry for you Kingslayer?"

"Gods no, what a fall it would be to be pitied by the Black Bastard of the Wall."

Jon flinched.

"You don't like that word - bastard? Its what you are though, its what they call you."

Jon stared at him with hard eyes "Aye and there are worse things to be called."

"And what would those things be?" Lannister looked at him with challenging mocking green eyes as though daring Jon to utter the name 'Kingslayer'. This man unnerved him, Jon sparred with him often because he was one of the only fighters at Winterfell who could match him but the pair didn't speak. That didn't stop Ser Jaime from looking him up and down every so often as though searching for something.

He told himself that Lannister liked the company of men and that was why he looked...except, it wasn't lust in his eyes.

_Maybe he recognised a fellow oathbreaker._

"Murderer, raper, thief...cannibal" Jon said slowly answering his question.

"You're a dour one, arent' you Snow?" There was that speculative look again. The Kingslayer chuckled "Do you get many cannibals joining the Night's Watch?"

"Not the Night's Watch, no, but there are cannibal clans among the wildlings" Jon lied.

"You seek to impress me again." Ser Jaime smirked.

"I have no need of impressing you Kingslayer" Jon dismissed.

"We heard all about the supposed horrors beyond the Wall from Stannis at court. The only horror was in Stannis's mind" Lannister said darkly "When he pulled his little girl from her bed, bound her to a wooden post, threw down a flaming torch and watched her burn alive."

Jon looked down as the words conjured up images and he drained his tankard of ale. "Aye that was a horror."

He had not believed it at first, when word of Shireen Baratheon's murder had reached Castle Black. It seemed so at odds with the man he had fought alongside in the war, a man of bravery, sense and justice. Where was the sense in witchcraft? Where was the bravery and justice in the murder of a little girl?

"It was the Red Woman" Davos had said through tears, when he told the Onion Knight the news on the Antler River "She got into his mind and twisted it into something monstrous and foul."

Jon had never met the Lady Melisandre but he did not place the blame entirely at her feet. The Stannis, he had known was obsessed with duty, with justice, an obsession that in the end he had prided over his own daughter's life.

"It was the Targaryen in him" Lannister said pouring wine into Jon's empty tankard "What is it they say, every time a Targaryen is born the gods flip a coin?"

"Aye, something like that" Jon replied, it occurred to him that they probably shouldn't be talking like this, the King had Targaryen in him too "But there wasn't much Targaryen blood in him...maybe that's why it took him so long to go mad."

"I suppose... it took years for Rhaegar as well." Lannister agreed dismissively.

Jon felt his jaw clench "Prince Rhaegar kidnapped and raped my aunt."

"And before that he was a good man, one of the best I've ever known" Jaime said calmly and Jon wondered if he was drunk or just liked playing with danger, he shouldn't be saying such things even in the lowly presence of bastards and whores "But even the good Targaryens all turn mad eventually" He laughed darkly "After all only a depraved man would fuck his own sister."

Jon's stomach lurched uncomfortably and in his mind's eye he saw twin images of Merry, the bare breasted whore and of Sansa, in his arms, looking up at him with full red lips. He clenched his fist so hard that his fingernails cut into the skin.

One of the doors banged open and Bronn emerged buttoning up his breeches. He greeted the Kingslayer with pleasure, ordered more wine and sat down with a huff.

"I need a rest after that one, I'm not as young as I used to be" He sighed leaning back in his seat before giving Jon and Lannister a pair of disapproving looks "I don't suppose you know how unhappy these ladies are that they have to service me and his lordship while the pretty boys drink wine and gossip like a pair of old crones."

Ser Jaime gave a wan smile "We both took vows of celibacy."

"Oh aye? And you're the first men in history to keep such vows, is that right?" He asked mockingly.

"There's more honour in the North" Jon said glibly causing his companions to chuckle heartily.

"I hate laughter I haven't caused" Tyrion had appeared too and he joined them. Like Bronn he was only dressed in his undershirt and a pair of breeches "It makes me feel like I'm the butt of the joke."

"Have no fear, they were laughing at me" Jon said carelessly.

"And what a tragic life you do lead Snow. A war hero who adventures beyond the Wall and has a face handsome enough to make most girls cry." Tyrion said bitterly and he took a long gulp of the wine "Gods this is piss" he snapped his fingers impatiently "Come you must have something better than this."

"What are you so sour about?" Bronn asked as Myriame brought them two different bottles of wine "You've just spent an hour with two of the most beautiful women in the North?"

Tyrion snorted into his drink "Well there's the fact that I have married the most beautiful maid the North has to offer and she won't allow me in her bed" Jon wondered how far dwarves fell when you punched them "Then of course, the woman I truly loved was sent away because she'd rather fuck a kraken."

The other three men looked away uncomfortably.

"Sansa will want children eventually, all women do" Ser Jaime said carefully "And as for Shae, she is better off gone."

Tyrion looked at him darkly "Did you know she was spying on me for Cersei?" he spat.

Ser Jaime sighed "I...found out shortly after we arrived at Winterfell."

"And you didn't tell me" Tyrion growled "Why?"

"The same reason I didn't tell you I found her behind the stables at the Crossroads Inn with one of the kitchen boys. You wouldn't have believed it, you needed to see her deception with your own eyes." Bronn said.

"Well thank you very much" Tyrion drawled angrily but Jon wondered if the dwarf hadn't already somehow known, for all his melancholy and bitterness he showed no surprise. Sometimes Jon wondered whether his father or Robb would be surprised when they found out that he had betrayed them.

There was a long pause punctuated only by the gulping of wine down Tyrion's throat, when he finished, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and slurred "Maybe I should just fuck whores for the rest of my life...or I could try wooing Sansa...no, no happiness could come from that...whoring it is, it's what I'm good at."

And with that he slipped off his seat and slunk back to the back rooms with the remaining bottle of wine and three whores.

* * *

Later that night Jon stumbled into bed, drained and dour. The walk back to Winterfell was long and cold, with fierce blustery snows and only the light of the pale moon guide them. Bronn had stayed at the brothel, paying the mistress for a warm bed for the night so it had just been him and the Lannister brothers.

Jon had brought up the subject of Longclaw, wishing that he had done so earlier on in the evening before he was so far in his cups. Tywin's sons were too drunk and too weary to make much sense but Jon heard enough to know that their father would pay a lot of gold for the sword and that he'd be a fool to sell it.

"Don't you know that Ranger Snow fears grumkins and snarks and dead things rising beyond the Wall." Tyrion had japed whilst the Kingslayer laughed uncontrollably as though it were the greatest joke he had heard of his life.

Jon hoped they had not made too much of a ruckus sneaking back into the castle.

He rested his cheek against the soft ermine that lined his bed furs, it felt nice and downy against his skin. His head felt all muddled and confused from all the drink. Jon wondered if Sansa was still awake...probably not. He wanted to go see her, her bedchamber was warmer than his and Sansa was soft and inviting. His hand fell onto his thigh. She had felt so nice in his arms.

Sometimes, when he visited late, she was already dressed for bed. Sometimes her robe would fall open as she leaned forward to pick up a fallen pin or thread and he would glimpse the curve of her teat. His cock hardened and his hand drifted to cup it.

_I want..._

Jon wrenched his hand away and rubbed his face. It was the whores, it was Merry and her bare breasts and the drink and the hour and the guilt. _I should have taken Merry tonight, I should have paid her ten stags and pretended she was Ygritte as I took her_.

He thought of Ygritte and their cave so long ago. It had been so long since he had been with a woman. His cock hardened even further, begging for attention. He slipped his hand into his breeches and started to stroke.

 _I want...I want to…_ He wanted so much.

Jon thought of Ygritte, of her fierce eyes and crooked smile. He thought of their cave and imagined kissing her freckled skin, as he stroked himself he remembered kissing down a skinny waist to her cunt.

Jon panted as he stroked harder, tiredness and desperation wearing down on him like an anvil. He thought of Ygritte's wild mane of bright hair which became darker and smoother and the cave they were in turned into a bedchamber. Somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, the girl panting above him turned from Ygritte to another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think so far? All criticism (both positive and negative) is welcome.


	12. All shod with steel, we hissed along polished ice

**Arya**

"Hold it..." the prince murmured in her ear.

"I know I'm supposed to hold it" Arya snapped back, annoyed as she steadied the crossbow in her grasp. Far away a young elk stepped in the snow, passing gently through trees and eating moss from their bark.

Prince Joffrey's hand felt weird on her waist as he stood behind her. He was to keep her upright when she fired, the first time she had fired his crossbow she had fallen backwards from the violent recoil and the thought of his annoying smirk was more grating than his hands on her waist.

Beth Cassel, who stood some way away with Ser Meryn Trant of the Kingsguard, said that he was courting her. Arya thought that was ridiculous, the match would be between Robb and Myrcella, everyone knew that. No one had ever tried courting Arya, she was Arya Underfoot, wholly ugly with her knobbly knees and long face. It was laughable to think her capable of landing handsome princes.

Joffrey just wanted somebody to hunt with.

"Now" He whispered.

Arya let the bolt go and watched it pierce threw the air at lightening speed and strike through the neck of the elk. It fell to forest floor with a soft thud.

"Ha!" Arya exclaimed in triumph. It was the first time she had killed game with a crossbow and only third time Joffrey had allowed her to hunt with his.

"Well done Lady Arya" Beth called from her far away position. Joffrey and Arya hadn't let her come closer even though she was meant to be chaperoning them, she knew nothing of moving stealthily and would have frightened away the game.

They moved forward towards the elk and watched as its blood leaked out onto the snow, soaking it wine red. The animal was not quite dead and for a few moments they watched it jerk before the light drained out its eyes.

"Its intoxicating isn't it?" Joffrey said softly "To watch something with so much life die slowly by your own hand"

Arya raised an eyebrow, he was weird sometimes but she thought she knew what he meant.

It would be satisfying to serve this game to Robb, Jon and Father and let them know that it was _her_ who caught it.

**Ned**

"If the boy means to sell his Valyrian Steel then he's a damned fool" Robert scoffed, tearing off a chunk of chicken leg with his teeth.

Ned had found that the only time to talk to Robert of any serious matter was when he was breaking his fast, before the King began his day of drinking, whoring and gambling.

"He's desperate" Ned sighed "He doesn't think the Night's Watch will last the winter."

He dared not bring up the Others. If he was lucky Robert would laugh at him, if he was unlucky the King would believe them in league with Stannis.

_Promise me Ned._

And he didn't want Robert questioning Jon, really he didn't even want Robert thinking about Jon. For all that the boy looked like a Stark, sometimes Ned worried that someone would look at him and see...

"They get enough food, they don't need anything else." Robert said.

"They need men, horses and steel" Ned prodded "There are nineteen castles on the Wall yet only three are manned. If Rayder were to rise again…"

"Rayder is easy enough to crush. It’s the dragon whore we need to worry about and she'll attack in the south."

"Daenerys Targaryen has shown no signs of coming west" Ned pressed "You have a responsibility to the whole realm, if the Wall could just have two hundred men, they wouldn't need to take the black, they could…"

"Damn it Ned! I said No!" Robert barked, slamming his fist on the table with a hard _Bang!_ The servants at the far end of the hall jumped and scurried away with the last of the breakfast crockery "Aye, I've a responsibility to the realm and I won't jeopardise it all so your bastard can keep his bloody sword. What use is a Valyrian steel sword at the Wall anyway, where the only foe are wildlings wielding wooden clubs? Better that he send it down south into the hands of a real warrior."

Ned leaned back in his chair and rubbed his head.

"If you think that Daenerys Targaryen doesn't want my throne then you are a fool" Robert growled "She calls herself Queen of the Seven Kingdoms does she not? She wields three dragons, sellswords and half the armed men of Slavers Bay. We need every man we have to stop her from reducing the realm to ash."

Ned drank down his nettle tea and wondered how he would tell Jon. The boy was used to disappointment, he had been disappointed all his life, maybe that was why he now sought adventure in the myths from beyond the Wall.

The war had brought Jon and Robb purpose and glory while the peace left them lost, anchorless.

Sometimes Jon spoke so earnestly, so logically that Ned half believed that the dead did rise beyond the Wall, however impossible it may be. Other times he saw something behind Jon's eyes, something different and other and he half wondered if the war had not stirred some kind of madness in him. Ned had lived in fear all Jon's childhood waiting for the dragon to rise within him but it never came, instead he was gifted with nothing but a quiet and good natured boy.

But they said Stannis's madness had come late and so too did Rhaegar's.

"We should have killed her years ago. I should have gone to Essos and hunted the little bitch myself." Robert growled "We got close mind you. The Spider had his little birds slip her poison. It didn't get the mother but it got her dragonspawn."

Ned choked on his mead "You...she was with child...you delivered poison to _an unborn babe_?"

"Oh don't look at me like that Ned!" Robert demanded "It had to be done, the child was Khal Drogo's. You can imagine what destruction would be wrought by a Targaryen at the head of a Dothraki army"

"The Robert I followed would never have trembled before the shadow of an unborn babe" Ned said quietly "You've dishonoured yourself."

"Careful, I am still _your king_ " Robert said in a hard voice "The Robert you followed knew nothing of the merchants of Kings Landing or the scholars of Oldtown or the fishermen of the Riverlands. I killed one child - _one_ \- so hundreds of thousands may live and you dare judge me?"

Ned said nothing and the vast empty hall seemed to echo around them.

"You're not so honourable, you judged me for my whoring but you sired your own bastard not five minutes after you married Catelyn. You sold your own little girl to the Imp so you could feed the North." And Ned winced at the reminder of what he had done to Sansa, of what he had done to Jon and Cat... "We're not so different, you and I. We both know that ruling wisely dirties the hands."

Robert too had Targaryen blood...Robert, his old friend, who had sent blades after a pregnant woman and her unborn child.

There were no monsters of old lurking in the shadows behind the Wall. The only real monsters were the men they lived amongst. The Stannis Baratheons, the Ramsay Snows and the Mance Rayders of the world.

The door to the Great Hall opened and Lady Catelyn entered, she curtseyed to Robert "Forgive me your grace if I have disturbed you."

"Nonsense, you've saved me Lady Stark" Robert said "Your husband was bothering me with matters of the realm. He doesn't seem to realise that's his burden to shoulder now."

"Indeed my King" Cat answered and she shared a wan smile with her husband.

"There's only one matter that needs deciding, once and for all." Robert declared "Is my boy good enough for your daughter or not?"

Ned sighed and he watched his wife's eyes fall, he knew she was thinking of the loss of Sansa. They had both gone back and forth half a hundred times on the matter; Arya was too wild to wear a crown in Kings Landing surely but to refuse his King this direct request...at a time of winter, when his bannermen likely plotted behind his back...

If it had been Sansa there would be no question - Sansa was born to be a princess.

The Prince of Dragonstone was arrogant and entitled but what else could be expected of a boy his age and in his position? He had been given everything he had ever wanted since he was a babe, of course he was spoiled. It was probable that the prince would mature as he grew, as he saw more of the world and was given more responsibility.

Joffrey's courting had so far been respectful, he didn't seem bothered that Arya was wild and appeared to enjoy hunting with her. And Arya...only this morning Ned had seen a smile on the face of his little girl, for the first time in a long time, as the pair left for the Wolfswood accompanied by Ser Meryn Trant and Beth Cassel.

Maybe an unusual princess need not be an unhappy princess.

"What do you think?" Ned asked his wife for she was able to spend more time with Arya than him.

Catelyn gave a strained smile "She does not seem...displeased with Prince Joffrey" she admitted.

"Come on Ned. Stark and Baratheon joined as kin, as it was always meant to be" Robert pressed.

Ned gave a heavy sigh "Aye alright" he conceded "Let's betroth them, but they will not wed until Arya is eight and ten."

Robert gave a great booming laugh of triumph "You'll not regret this Ned, no man regretted grandfathering a King."

"You shall grandfather a King" Cat repeated with a wry smile after Robert had left the hall, intent on drawing up the betrothal contract as soon as possible.

"You really think she will be pleased with this?" Ned asked cautiously.

"I think she will loathe the idea and hate us both" his wife replied sadly "But from what we've seen do you really think she would be happier with any other husband?"

"No, I suppose not." Ned admitted.

She sat down, taking Robert's old seat opposite him, and looked down "There is something else?" Ned guessed.

"Yes, but not of Arya" his wife said soberly "It appears Tyrion Lannister is not so nearly respectful as his nephew."

**Sansa**

She was with the Poole girls when her mother came to fetch her. They were helping Sonya finish her bridal cloak and at first Sansa had thought her mother would drag Arya kicking and screaming into the room. In all honesty she was somewhat cross with Arya, she knew her sister didn't like sewing but this was Sonya Poole and the sewing of her bridal cloak was too important to miss for the sake of racing Bran or watching the older boys spar or whatever childish nonsense Arya was engaged in at that moment.

Instead however, her mother took her to her solar, sat her down and told her with the gentleness that might be used to reveal a beloved family member had passed, that Tyrion had spent the previous night at the brothel in Wintertown.

"Oh" Sansa gasped and she tried to appeared shocked. She had heard Tyrion return the previous night, the sounds of things being drunkenly knocked over had traveled all the way from his rooms to hers. When he appeared at breakfast though he had only had one glass of wine instead of the whole bottle.

"I would rather not tell you such things" Lady Stark said "But it is generally best to know the worst about husbands, whatever the circumstances."

"Yes" Sansa agreed quietly and then frowned "But he has been to whores before...I told you."

Lady Catelyn blinked and for a moment she almost looked in pain "Sansa sweetling, surely you understand the difference between visiting the Street of Silk and dishonouring you at your own family seat?"

Yes she did, which why she had asked Jon to slip Tyrion out of the castle. That did not explain why her mother was behaving as though Tyrion had killed a man.

"Yes, but…"

"Sansa, we have discussed this" her mother said quietly but firmly "Your father will talk to Tyrion and…"

"No, he can't!" cried Sansa, feeling mortified at the thought of any such discussion.

"Yes, he will. Once he is done dealing with Jon, he will…" but Sansa didn't hear the rest, for she was up and out of her chair and to her mother's astonishment, fled the solar.

"Oh honestly Sansa, would you have a scene in the halls?" Her mother hissed trying to pull her back.

"Its not Jon's fault" Sansa cried. Whoever had told her parents about Tyrion had told them about Jon too. It could have been anyone - why couldn't Tyrion hold his heartbreak inside, why did he have to drink like a sailor and wake the entire castle?

It was a short walk to her father's solar. Lord Stark was standing over Jon who sat hunched over in a chair, staring at his clenched fists which hung clasped together between his knees. Sansa couldn't tell if he was angry or ashamed.

Her father appeared taken aback at her entrance, as he probably would do if anyone entered his solar without knocking first. "Your father will handle this Sansa." Her mother hissed once more, trying to steer her out of the solar.

"No" Sansa said, rushing forward to stand level with Jon "It wasn't Jon's fault father."

Lord Stark gave a heavy sigh "Sansa, I understand that you are upset with Tyrion. But Jon bares some of the responsibility, he should not have aided your husband in this...this deed"

Why did her parents always use her name when they talked to her? Did they think her so stupid that she couldn't tell who they were talking to?

"I asked him" Sansa blurted out "It's not Jon's fault. I asked him to take Tyrion to the...brothel."

A pause followed her words, during which all that could be heard was the crackling of the fire and some horses whinnying outside. Her mother looked at her in consternation as though she had never seen Sansa before.

As for her father...he had never seemed quite so tall before. He had never seemed so imposing before and the reality of what Sansa had just said sunk in and made her knees feel like buckling under the weight of it. Lord Stark stared at her with bewildered, disappointed eyes.

"Why? Why, in the name of the Gods, would you do something like that?" He asked.

"Because he was unhappy. I thought it would make him happy." Sansa replied meekly, aware of how her answer must sound to the honourable and noble Lord and Lady Stark.

"So you sent him to a _whorehouse_?!" Lady Catelyn cried aghast.

"I don't believe this" Her father muttered under his breath before stating "If a man is unhappy, it is up to _him_ to fix it. He shouldn't pressure you into encouraging his debaucheries."

"He didn't pressure me, it was my idea" Sansa protested.

"Sansa, we have talked about this" Her mother scolded "You are not a child anymore, you cannot just leave your husband to other women."

"But I don't want him."

"How could you possibly know that. You don’t know the first thing about marriage, about relations between a man and woman" a trickle of shame and guilt grew within Sansa as her mother spoke "Maybe you will want him, maybe you won't but you will want his children."

"I…"

Her father stood both firm and awkward, he didn't seem to be able to look at Sansa. Jon remained as silent as he had when they had entered, he continued to stare at his fists. She wished Jon would look at her.

"If you are scared of the act, we can discuss it, I can help you" Her mother promised "Your father will talk to Tyrion and…"

"No, you can't!" Sansa spluttered in horror.

"Sansa, the Lannisters will expect an heir at some point. And your mother is right, children will bring you great happiness" Her father said.

"What if they don't, what if I don't want children?" She asked quietly.

"Of course you want children" Lady Catelyn scoffed "You used to hold Rickon when he was first born and pretend he was your own babe. It is the act you do not want but you will have to go through with it. There is no choice Sansa. Do you think your father wanted to go to war three times in his life, do you think Robb liked killing wildlings in the frozen north? No! They made sacrifices for their family, as every Stark does and you will too."

Sansa felt like she was sinking in a muddy bog whilst her family watched and nobody helped.

Her father collapsed in the desk behind her chair and gave another heavy sigh "Sansa I am aware of what we are asking you to do." How could he be aware, he had chosen Jon's mother, he loved Sansa's mother "But you know what this marriage means for the North. Winter is here and I cannot have Lord Tywin call in his debt because no heir is forthcoming. We need his gold, without it thousands will starve."

"All the more reason not to humiliate his son by giving him a lecture on the marital bed" And Sansa almost jumped as Jon spoke in a sombre voice.

"Oh you speak now do you?" their father shot back "You give advice? I have not forgotten your part in this."

"And I doubt Lannister has forgotten his part in providing an heir for Casterly Rock" Jon said "So why embarrass yourselves both?"

"You speak a lot of preventing embarrassment for a man who was so eager to humiliate his sister, to disgrace her in her own family seat" Lady Catelyn hissed glaring at Jon.

"It wasn't…" Sansa started but her father spoke over her.

"You're a man of the Night's Watch, you shouldn't have been near a brothel in the first place. You may be angry with me but that is no excuse for such behaviour."

"Aye" Jon agreed lowly and said nothing more.

"Enough of this" Lady Stark declared "Ned, you will see that your bastard is punished appropriately. Sansa, you will let your father deal with Tyrion and then you will do your duty as thousands of women have done before and will do after you. You will give the Lannisters an heir, you will give yourself a babe and be glad of it."

It felt like the muddy water of the bog were closing in over Sansa's head and she felt herself choke. Tears stung in her eyes and she fled her father's solar and ran to her chambers where she wept into her pillow.

She waited for Jon to come, for him to tell her that everything would be alright. She waited all day, she waited as Kitty brought food, as Blueberry returned from her hunt, as the castle went to bed around her but he never came.

* * *

In the days after the talk in her father's solar, Sansa felt her spirits sink further and further. The obligation to do her marital duty weighed heavily in the back of her mind and she feared her father talking with Tyrion. She feared every evening that her husband would come knocking on her doors demanding his rights, either furious at her father for interfering or grateful for giving him an excuse to take her.

To her surprise, however, Tyrion was not mortified nor grateful for whatever Lord Stark had said to him. He was merely amused.

Being ordered to do his marital duty by his goodfather seemed to revive Tyrion's spirits in a way that whores and kind words could not. He thought the whole thing some great joke and laughed about it to Sansa afterwards. And to her relief he did not trouble her bed in the nights to come.

Sansa knew her mother was right, that she could not put off consummating her marriage forever but misery was for the South and the Free Cities, she wanted to be happy in the North. And she would be...if Jon Snow would only look at her.

He did not visit her chambers in the evenings anymore and when she would try to 'accidentally' run into him during the day, he would avoid her eye and cut any conversation short with a ready-made excuse.

She was surprised by how much she missed him. She had others to talk to, she spoke of wedding preparations with the Poole girls and played with the babes with Osha, but they weren’t Jon. She missed his strong and steady presence, his wry smiles and dark eyes.

_I never should have made him take Tyrion to the brothel, I embarrassed him in front of father._

Sometimes she wondered if Jon had found his own woman at the brothel and now spent his nights with her. The thought twisted in her stomach, it hurt at her from the insides like something vile and cruel.

 _No he wouldn’t. He is more honourable than Tyrion_ Sansa tried to tell herself. He had said that he didn't visit whores... _maybe the whores in Winterstown are prettier than the ones in Molestown._

A week after the ill fated confrontation with her parents, Jory Cassel and Sonya Poole were married before the heart tree in Winterfell's godswood. The wedding feast took place in one of the smaller halls of Winterfell and while House Stark attended, the Royal household did not. As such the festivities were less extravagant than more recent feasts and less wild, instead they held more of a familiar air.

Sansa danced with Robb and Theon as well as Gage the cook and a guard Alyn whilst Robb and Theon took turns with serving girls and scullery maids. Her mother laughed with Mistress Poole at the head table whilst Arya, Beth, Bran and Rickon tried to emulate the southron jugglers with apples and turnips. Her father, Rodrik Cassel and Vayon Poole drank heartily with the groom and Jon...every time Sansa turned to find Jon, his back was turned to her and he was deep in conversation with Abel the so called singer or Maester Luwin.

She felt a tugging in her throat, an almost longing that came from a place she could not describe as she gazed upon the back of his head. She wanted to see his face again. Sansa crossed the hall and tapped him on the shoulder.

Jon turned to her, his grey eyes were so dark that they were almost black. Sansa swallowed down the flutterings in her insides and asked as cheerfully as she could "Would you like to dance Jon?"

He could not say no to her, not without appearing rude in front of Luwin.

Jon's mouth dropped a little but then his eyes hardened and his jaw snapped shut and after a moment "Forgive me, my lady, I was up early this morning, I fear I would fall asleep on the dance floor."

He had been up early, hunting with Robb and Theon and neither of _them_ appeared tired. Sansa knew he found Robb sheltered now and everyone knew he did not like Theon yet he would rather hunt with them than visit Sansa's chambers.

"In fact I should probably retire now. The Cerwyns and Hornwoods will arrive on the morn and I would like to meet them with a fresh face." Jon muttered, and he bowed his head taking care not to look at Sansa. "If you'll excuse me Lady Sansa...Maester. I will bid you both good night."

Sansa returned to her table and sat down with a huff. She was soon joined by Osha and Sonya, who at Osha's proddings had come to confess that she was indeed with child. But the talk of babes merely irritated Sansa and reminded her what awaited her in her marriage to Tyrion. She barely paid attention as the other women japed and talked of altering dresses and the morning sickness.

Who was Jon to be so upset with her? He could have said 'no', he didn't _have_ to take Tyrion to the brothel.

Her father probably hadn't even punished him, Jon belonged to the Night's Watch now and Lord Stark was not allowed to punish him for anything other than desertion or treason. Meanwhile Sansa had endured scolding after scolding from her mother along with excruciating lectures on marriage and the marriage bed.

The Royal party would leave after the tourney, in a few days Jon would leave Winterfell and Sansa would not see him again for years...if ever. Something pulled within her and Sonya and Osha's voices fell apart in her ears like the buzzing of bees.

She got up and rushed out of the hall.

 _Who is Jon to spend our last days so sullen and resentful,_ she thought as she headed to Jon's room. She rapped on the door loudly and entered without waiting for a response.

_"Sansa!"_

Sansa's breathe caught and her heart thudded in her chest. Jon was standing at the foot of his bed, shirtless.

She had seen his bare chest before, on first arriving at Winterfell, at the fitting, but this time it felt different. It could have been the darkened firelight that threw long shadows across his body or Jon's hard, angry eyes or the strange tension that hung in the air but Sansa felt something that felt like fear but wasn't.

"You can't be in here" Jon snapped at her, snatching up an undershirt and pulling it on hastily "Its not appropr…"

"You are a petty...ungrateful...shallow man." Sansa spluttered, interrupting him.

"Oh really?" Jon scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Yes!" Sansa spat and she burst out angrily "I helped you get supplies for the Nights Watch. You could have said 'no' to taking Tyrion to Wintertown. Its not my fault that you all got so drunk that you woke the guards on the way back."

Jon swallowed, his face was still hard and yet she was pleased to see guilt in his eyes.

"And yet you avoid me. Did father punish you?"

"Sans…"

"Did he punish you?" she repeated.

"No" Jon admitted.

"And yet you dare treat me like I'm the great villain when I'm the one who will leave the North and bed a man who I don't want and whelp out his babies for the rest of my life!"

Jon's face fell but she was unable to take any triumph in it "Sansa, I'm sorry."

"No, you don't get to be sorry. I thought...I thought that..." Sansa cried, not liking how her voice broke as she did so "I shall be happy when I never have to look on your face again Jon Snow!"

She left, slamming the door behind her and angrily wiping away her tears. She hoped Jon would follow her but he never did.

That night Sansa dreamt of giving birth to a babe drowned in blood. She heard screams and clangs of steel and then silence, in the darkness she heard birds caw and the angry fluttering of trapped wings.

But when she awoke, it was to the sound of knocking on her chamber door. It was Jon. Sansa stared at him for a moment and she wondered if she was still dreaming.

He was dressed in furs and had a satchel slung over his shoulder "Come on." Jon said beckoning his head "Get dressed into something warm, put on your boots and cloak."

"Where do you plan on taking me?" Sansa asked with a sceptical tone which she hoped warned that she had not yet forgotten the previous night.

Jon's mouth twitched into a half smile "Some place that will make you forgive me."

* * *

The some place turned out to be beyond Winterfell's walls as Jon took two horses from the stables and led her out the gates, Blueberry flying far above them.

"I thought you had had enough of sneaking outside the castle" Sansa said wryly.

Jon shrugged "We're not sneaking, we have every right to leave Winterfell for the day if we want."

"The day? You will miss the Cerwyns and Hornwoods." She tried to tease and to her relief he gave her an indulgent smile.

"I'm sure they will still be there when we get back."

To Sansa's disappointment the conversation ended there. The air between them was stilted and awkward, Sansa wanted to talk to him but it didn’t seem as easy any more.

Jon, for his part, made no real effort to engage and was concentrated on riding. She was sure he was going slower for her benefit, for which she was grateful.

Sansa was surprised at how good it felt to be out on the snowy moors with the wind on her skin. She was very much an indoors person but the wide expanse of the moors under the vast conflower blue sky made her feel free after almost six weeks shut up in the keep.

They journeyed east for a few miles before they reached the pine woods that bordered the White Dagger, and the branches brushed snow onto them as they weaved through the trees. The White Dagger was a tributary river that flowed into the White Knife, Sansa remembered it being wild and choppy with fierce rapids in her youth, but now the water was frozen and the surface gleamed like shining diamonds in the sun. The rocks that had once made the water churn were trapped between the ice and dusted with snow that made them look like white velvet.

"Are we to have a picnic?" Sansa chirped as they dismounted on the banks and Jon lay a blanket on the ground.

"Not quite" Jon smirked slightly and he untied one of the saddle bags from his destrier. From it he pulled two pairs of boots with sharp steel blades attached to them.

"Oh Jon!" Sansa gushed.

Jon's cheeks tinged red "I thought you might have felt left out." he shrugged modestly, referring to the trip to Long Lake that she had missed out on.

Before they put the boots on, Jon tested the ice was strong enough by steering his horse over the frozen water and looked for signs of cracks under the beast's weight. Seemingly satisfied he brought the poor animal back, tied it to a tree and they put on their skates. Sansa's were a tad too big for her but Jon had brought her extra woollen socks so they did not feel loose.

Sansa wobbled when she first tried to stand and would have fallen over if Jon hadn't caught her in time.

"Steady" he grinned as she clasped his forearms for dear life.

"I always thought ice skating would be more elegant than this" she complained as Jon slowly led her backwards onto the ice.

"Give yourself time and you'll be gliding like a dragonfly over water." Jon chuckled.

It took more time than Sansa would have liked and they skated around in circles for what felt like an hour with Sansa clutching onto Jon with one arm and holding out the other in ridiculous positions to try and maintain her balance. She was thankful for the pine woods which sheltered them from any smallfolk that might be traveling on the moor.

Jon laughed "Its okay if you fall, that's how you learn."

Sansa glared at him "You sound like Hullen" she griped referring to the Master of Horses at Winterfell who had had to teach a very reluctant Sansa how to ride.

"This is easier than riding a horse, trust me." Jon said softly and he gently pried her clinging fingers from his arm and drifted away.

Sansa flailed for a few seconds, her arms whirling like windmills until she finally found her balance and stood on her own on the ice. "I did it" She squealed.

Jon chuckled and he guided her as she attempted gliding by herself before eventually getting the hang of it. They skated up river and saw glittering icicles hanging from tree branches and blue winter roses growing by one of the banks. It was quiet but for birdsong and the woods shielded them from the cold winds of the moor. "'I've always liked these flowers" Sansa said, stopping by the winter roses "It's a shame that they only bloom in winter." She fingered the soft petals, blue as frost.

"There are winter roses that grow in the glass gardens" Jon pointed out.

"But surely Jon Flowers must know the difference between garden flowers and ones that grow free?" Sansa teased.

Jon barely raised a smile, there was a fondness in his eyes but also a melancholy that touched Sansa's heart. She reached down to pluck one of the roses but the thorns pricked her finger and she exclaimed in pain.

"Are you ok?" Jon asked quickly and he grabbed her waist.

"I'm fine, its only a little blood" she replied as a dribble of red bubbled from her fingertip. Sansa put the finger in her mouth to suck the would clean.

Above her she heard a sharp intake of breath and Sansa looked up to see Jon staring down at her with darkened, almost black eyes. His gaze made her heady, his grasp felt warm, as though heat was coiling inside of her.

And then it was gone...and Jon was a few yards away, her waist felt bereft without his hand. Her brother...half brother cleared his throat awkwardly "We should eat" he said in a hoarse voice, he was breathing harder than usual.

_I shouldn't feel like this._

They returned to the horses and saddle bags and sat on the blanket Jon had brought to eat in silence. Every now and then Sansa dared to look up at Jon. His face was long and despair hung around him like a shroud. She noticed that he barely ate and just picked at his cherry cakes listlessly until they fell apart in his hands.

"Are you so very upset with me?" Sansa asked, dreading his answer.

Jon smiled sadly and shook his head "No, not with you. Not ever."

Sansa shuffled closer to him on the blanket, she wanted to hold his hand to give comfort but decided against it. "Tell me what ails you. Maybe I can help."

Jon laughed bitterly "That's the problem...You can help."

Sansa frowned "I don't understand."

Jon sighed. "I liked frostfires best. " He suddenly declared "They grow beyond the Wall during autumn." It took a moment for her to realise he was talking of flowers and she was taken aback by the turn of the conversation. "I remember seeing them when we ranged north before the war. They were small and delicate with bright red petals, they grew in the rocky barren ground of Skirling Pass. They were a thing of beauty amongst all the grey, the sleet, the harshness of the mountains...sometimes I think the gods try to torture us by giving us a spark of pleasure in a sea of war, misery and lies."

"The mountains lied?"

"I lied...I lie still"

Sansa stiffened, she stood up and walked away "I don't want to hear any more."

But Jon followed her "Please Sansa, I _need_ to tell you."

"Why? Will these secrets that you keep bring harm our family?"

"No, of course not…"

"Then _why_ do you need to tell me. Why can't things remain as they are?" Sansa exclaimed.

"Because life's not that simple" Jon said "The Others march on the Wall and unless we stop them, they will kill everyone in their path."

"No...no..." Sansa shook her head frantically.

Jon's face fell in disappointment "You don't believe me, I thought…"

"I believe you, I believe Osha...its just…its just..." Sansa struggled "They've been gone for eight thousand years, why would they...The Wall will stop them. You and Father and Robb can destroy them from the top of the Wall."

"They will go around the Wall when the seas freeze. By then it will be too late."

He sounded like Stannis "The seas haven't frozen in thousands of years" she said repeating the words of her father, of Maester Pyrcelle and Tyrion "Why would they do so now?"

"Because the elk herds have been migrating south for the first time in generations, because all the fish in the Milkwater and Antler River swim downstream, because snow bears swim out into the open water, because ice spiders have been seen in the Mountains of Thenn. Because the Others march on the Wall. Because this winter is _different_."

"How can you know all this?" Sansa spluttered "Why don't you tell father, if its true then…"

"I _have_ told father" Jon answered in a hard voice "Over and over again. I saw some of it with my own eyes, I heard the rest from wildings but father doesn't trust wildlings and he thinks that I'm still a green boy who can be tricked by the shadow of a tree."

"That's not true." Sansa argued.

"Yes it is, you know it is. He still thinks of us as children!" Jon snapped "Oh sure he'll indulge my talk, he'll even put in some effort to strengthening the Night's Watch but he doesn't really _believe_. He will always prioritise holding Winterfell and the squabbles of the North over the true war, over the only enemy that matters!"

"Father is not selfish, he cares about his people."

"Aye so much so that he made you a child bride to save them" Jon shot back and Sansa winced involuntarily, casting her eyes on the snow beneath their feet.

"Forgive me, I...I shouldn't have said that." Jon said in a hoarse voice. He ran a hand through his dark hair and shook his head in both frustration and despair "Father is narrow minded. There is but one way to save the North, the Northern way, the Stark way - _his_ way. He'll fight wildlings and sell daughters because that's the Stark way and he can't look beyond it."

Sansa hugged herself as an unwelcome thought bubbled up in her mind. _Had father ever considered selling Ice to feed the North?_ No was the answer of course. _It's different_ she tried to tell herself but a nasty voice whispered _of course its different, daughters are easier to come by than Valyrian steel._

"The wildlings murdered Uncle Benjen." She whispered.

"Aye maybe. Or maybe the cold killed Uncle Benjen or the white walkers. We don't know but I can promise you that he did not die by Mance Rayder's hand" Jon told her solemnly.

"And you trust Mance Rayder?" Sansa asked fearing the answer.

It was as though they stood on the edge of a great gorge and one word from Jon and she would fall. "Yes" he breathed.

" _What have you done?_ " Sansa whispered.

Jon gulped and for the first time, there was real fear in his eyes "I've been helping wildlings pass the Wall."

"N...No"

Jon ploughed on "We need them. Please Sansa...you have to understand...the threat is…"

"H...how m...many" Sansa stuttered.

Jon swallowed again, she didn't think she had ever seen him so nervous "About four or five thousand, give or take."

Sansa choked. "F...five...t...thousand."

"Please Sansa" Jon said lowly and he clutched her upper arms, holding her closer to him "It was the only way. Mance is a good man, he only wants to protect his people, the freefolk want to hide behind the Wall not breech it. They'll fight the Others with us."

"T...this is treason" Sansa cried "Father will be forced to take your head when he finds out."

Jon let go of her "I know." he said.

"Don't you care?!" she yelled at him, furious that he could talk about the prospect with such abandon. "How can you be so cruel? What about father, what about the rest of us?!"

"Because I stood in Hardhome and watched thousands of men, women and children slaughtered by white shadows and dead men, they called it a battle but it wasn't a battle, it was slaughter." He answered in a hollow voice "We fled to the docks and they chased us cutting down babes and giants alike. Then I stood in a boat and watched a creature made of ice raise his hands and those twenty thousand slain men, woman and children rise once more with eyes like bright blue stars."

"I've been waiting for death ever since then and every day I live I'll do everything I can to make sure that the same does not happen at Winterfell."

Sansa shuddered, and her whole body shivered "Why did you have to tell me?" she moaned "I didn't want to know."

She hated what he had done to them. How he had forced her to lie to her father, to betray the King, most of all she hated how he had put himself a hair's breath from the executioner's axe.

"I...I need your help." Jon swallowed and Sansa couldn't help the stab of pity amongst the pain and resentment.

"I can't...I've already sought food and supplies for you." Sansa protested "I can't persuade Father or Robb, they'll listen to you before they listen to me, you know that. I can't fight, I don't have anything of value."

"That's not true, you have information. When wielded well that can be more valuable than a hundred thousand dragons." Jon said and he talked about the island of Dragonstone, how there was obsidian beneath it that could be forged into weapons that could defeat the Others. He told her that Stafford Lannister wouldn't sell without authorisation from Joffrey.

"I need to know what kind of man Stafford Lannister is. I need to know how we might move him." Jon implored.

Sansa felt herself incapable of saying anything in reply, she turned from Jon and looked out on the frozen riverbed. She spotted a robin on the other side of the bank, hopping between the branches of a pine and singing prettily. It took of into the sky and danced on the air. Sansa wished she could slip into its skin and for a brief moment she saw the pine trees that lined the White Dagger as though they were as small as matchsticks and she floated high above them. She saw the rolling undulations of the moors and the shadow of Winterfell in the distance.

"I didn't want to tell you. I had no choice" Jon eventually spoke, with a hint of desperation "I'll never involve you in this again, I swear it by the old gods and the new."

"You don’t follow the new gods" Sansa said listlessly "Osha said that the Others killed her husband and her babe."

"They killed her man, it was the cold that killed the child."

Yes, Osha had said it was the cold. But if the Others had never come then she and her babe would have stayed warm and fed in their shelter.

"You can't bribe Ser Stafford, no amount of gold is worth betraying the Lannisters." Sansa finally said and then she sighed "He gambles, his wife doesn't like it so he only does it when he visits Kings Landing at the inns on the Street of the Sisters. If you can defeat him well in a game of dice or cards then you can hold the debt over his head. He won't want his wife finding out and he certainly won't want Lord Tywin finding out."

"Thank you Sansa" Jon exhaled and he stepped closer to her and grasped both her hands so he could kiss them.

A shiver ran through her and Sansa said "Promise you won't die. Promise me Jon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the update, please let me know what you think - all criticism welcome
> 
> I know that some of this was filler but after quite a bit of set up, things will finally start to kick into gear in the next chapter, I promise. Coming up next, we will see a tourney and a death.


	13. The moment when all smiles died

**Jon**

Over the next few days, houses from across the North descended on Winterfell. The Manderlys, Cerwyns, Flints, Hornwoods and Tallharts all brought guards, maids, grooms and pages and together they filled out the Guard's Hall, the Guest House and the Great Keep. The inns and taverns in Wintertown were full of merchants and hedge knights who had come from near and far, undertaking their journeys in search of gold and glory.

Jon was moved into Theon's chambers, supposedly so that Harrion Karstark had somewhere to sleep but Lord Stark also told him privately to make sure that Theon didn't get lost on his way back to his chambers and accidentally end up in a bedchamber belonging to one of the Northern lords' maiden daughters.

Jon's days were filled with merman, elk and thistles as he attempted to cojole this lord and that lord with little success. They claimed poverty, and his father and Robb said they spoke the truth but Jon wondered how men who could hang a banner in the Great Hall of Winterfell, and pay for fools and pages, dare to call themselves poor. He wanted to show these Northern lords and Southron knights what true poverty was, he wanted to take them to Molestown, where mothers and babes lived under the dirt or north of the Wall where a starving men had to feed themselves on tree bark.

That was not to say that Ned and Robb Stark's assessment of the Northern situation was wrong. Maybe it was because Jon now watched proceedings with a keener mind but the Northern Lords seemed less…deferential to his father than when Jon had been a boy.

"It's been like this since the floods" Robb confessed to Jon as Walton Steelshanks apologised to Lord Stark for the absence of Roose Bolton (Bolton claimed winter fever). "Poole swears half them short change us on the tax...not that we can prove it."

"It didn't seem this way during the war" Jon replied and part of him wondered if he had been too hard on his father.

"We find our friends on the battlefield" Robb said quoting their father "But once men leave the battlefield, old gripes start to bubble up. The Norreys are here though, I thought they wouldn't come for they are so upset with the growing numbers of wildlings stealing through their lands. Things are getting better, slowly we are reclaiming our standing."

But how much better could they be when Lady Wynafred Manderly arrived, not fluttering her eyelashes at Robb but newly betrothed to a distant cousin, Ser Dyllis Manderly. Fat Lord Manderly talked of how his granddaughter, and eventual heir, would keep the Manderly name after she married but that was surely a pretence - House Manderly could have kept its name by insisting that the younger sister Wylla inherit the Merman's Court while her older sister took Winterfell.

What did it mean that the most eligible maiden in the North was marrying someone else while the heir to Winterfell still remained unwed?

Maybe it meant a royal wedding and there was no cause for worry. There was something in the air, as though an announcement is about to be made.

"I'm growing more at ease with the idea" Robb had admitted to Jon and Theon "Aye, Myrcella's still a child but she'll grow and the wedding needn't take place for many years yet. She's kind and gentle, with a good amount of wit. There are worse brides to be had."

Robb even started talking about naming the Princess his Queen of Love & Beauty if he won the tourney because he thought she would appreciate the gesture.

The tourney itself was to be a small one, only a melee and an archery tournament. A joust would be too costly and Northern noblemen were rarely taught how (it was seen as a frivolity) so the exercise would only embarrass Lord Stark's bannermen.

The stands were set up outside the gates of Winterfell, the backs were draped in the banners of the King and House Stark and filled with cushioned seats for the nobles and fenced pens for the smallfolk. Wintertown had expanded up to the stands themselves with stalls, makeshift taverns and little stages as merchants and mummers from all over the North had trekked through the snow to sell their wares.

On the morning of the archery competition Jon escorted Sansa round the slapdash market and thought with satisfaction that it was a rather brotherly thing to do and if he noticed how prettily her face flushed in the cold snow then that's only because it was impossible not to.

Jon felt safer spending time with her in the public sphere of the market and Sansa too seemed to appreciate the location of their walk meant they could not talk of any of his doings. She didn't seem to hate him or be disappointed in him for betraying Lord Stark but without words she made it clear that she didn't want to talk about it and he suspected that she didn't like to think about it either. The whole thing put Jon further into conflict with himself, the cold rational part of him knew that the less Sansa knnew the better but there was a naïve desperate yearning to share more with her. He thought that if he only might talk about how guilty he felt with her, to have her listen patiently, kindly to the darkest parts of his heart, to hear the treacherous things he's thought and done then he would feel infinitely better.

But it would be cruel to unload such a burden on sweet Sansa.

Theon unsurprisingly won the archery tournament and the gold dragons that serve as its prize. "Am I not the greatest archer you have ever seen!" He cried at his champion's feast that evening.

He was not. He was not even as good as Jon remembered him although that may have been because Jon's memory of Theon's prowess was steeped in childhood nostalgia. Ygritte would have challenged him and Anguy, a peasant and one of Stannis's men who took the black, would have destroyed him.

"Summer Islanders are the best archers, everyone knows that" Sansa whispered to Jon later when he told her this "It is a pity Prince Jalabhar Xho did not come North, he would have wiped the smile off Theon's face."

The following day was the melee and Jon had entered into this competition. He would rather not, he agreed with his father that it was foolish to display your fighting style in front of the whole Kingdom for no purpose except there was a purpose; the prize of five thousand gold dragons was not something he could afford to pass by.

On occasion Jon also imagined being given a crown of blue winter roses and naming Sansa his Queen of Love & Beauty. He had no wife or betrothed, why shouldn't he crown his sis...half-sister? As he trained he pictured her proud and beautiful, beaming at him from under a crown of flowers.

That wasn't why he was entering.

He needed the coin for the Night's Watch and upcoming war.

That was all.

And so Jon donned the black armour of the Night's Watch.

**Sansa**

Stood sheltered in the shade by the side of the stands, where they could not see her, Sansa watched Jon, Robb and Theon prepare themselves for the melee. They could not see her from her position and as she twisted her handkerchief Sansa took in every last moment. The King's visit would be at an end after tonight champion's feast and afterwards she would likely never see Jon again.

She watched him bouncing on the balls of his feet, exchanging grins and quips with her brothers. He looked so strong. She was terrified for him.

Sansa dreamt the previous night that Jon had been brought in chains to the great hall of Winterfell. He and her father had glared at one another with hatred before Jon was thrown down on a block. She had awoken drenched in sweat with shivering pale skin before the axe fell.

 _Father would never do that_ , Sansa told herself. _Duty be damned, he would never kill his own son._

Jon laughed at something Sansa couldn't hear and blocked a playful parry from Robb. Sansa's heart thudded in her chest, she liked his smile.

"You make an enticing sight my lady" Sansa's blood chilled as Joffrey approached her, gleaming in golden armour, he looked her up and down as though a lion surveying his prey "But you do not look well. Do not fear I shall dispense with these ruffians easily enough."

Sansa swallowed, they were in relative public, people were milling about, Poole and the King's page were only feet away checking the melee ground whilst Lord Rosby had already taken his seat in the stands and was within hearing range.

"I wish you every success your grace" Sansa said placidly, offering him a small curtsey.

"Do you?" Joffrey's eyes slowly traveled up and down her body "Maybe when I win, I'll make you my Queen of Love and Beauty. What do you think of that?"

Sansa skipped a breath, but then to her relief she saw Tyrion walking towards them, accompanied by Bronn. "My husband approaches your grace."

"Nephew" Tyrion gave him a short nod and said flatly "I wish you success in today's brawl."

Joffrey smirked "I was just suggesting that I make Lady Sansa my Queen of Love and Beauty. What do you think of that uncle?"

Tyrion's jaw twitched "You would have to win first. "

Joffrey sneered "Maybe one day I shall show you how good I am with a blade and make Sansa my Queen in truth."

Sansa gasped. Bronn stepped forward, his sword half way out of his scabbard but Tyrion put a hand out to stop him, his mismatched eyes glanced around at the attention they were drawing "Now is not the time or the place" he said lowly.

"Very wise uncle" Joffrey smirked "You only have one servant left, I would hate for you to lose him as well."

Sansa's stomach lurched, she wanted to call Blueberry from her hunt and have her peck out his eyes.

More knights were coming forth from the castle and assembling by the arena.

Joffrey suddenly snatched the wrung handkerchief from Sansa's hands "I must leave you now but I thank you for your favour."

Sansa opened her mouth in protest but no words came out. "Give that back" Tyrion said through gritted teeth.

"Or what? Will you fight me for it uncle?" the Prince laughed mockingly.

"You have no idea what I am capable of." Tyrion whispered dangerously.

Joffrey looked him up and down contemptuously "Oh I think I do and I think Sansa deserves a real man fighting for her." And he left them.

Sansa was shaking "He took...people will think…"

"People will think nothing" Tyrion told her firmly "He won't tell anyone because he's not that stupid"

"You want to bet your life on that?" Bronn asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It doesn't matter" Tyrion asserted, although Sansa suspected that his confidence was for their benefit rather than what he truly felt in his heart "We have just one more day. After tomorrow we will never see that little cockroach again, I promise you both. Let us take our seats."

As she turned towards the stands, she caught a glimpse of Jon on the other side of the arena, watching them with a hardened face. Her stomach tumbled and she wondered if he had seen Joffrey take her handkerchief.

 _Its not what you think_. She wanted to run and tell him but scores of people were now flooding into the stands and she was swept along to her seat.

She sat between Tyrion and her mother , who looked unusually disconcerted. Sansa held her hand and said to her quietly "Robb is a great swordsman mother."

"And only a fool would dare harm the Stark heir in Winterfell" Tyrion added.

Catelyn sniffed and gave her dwarf husband a wan smile that suggested she hadn't entirely forgotten about the Wintertown brothel "Oh honestly I know that" she said to Sansa "You act as though I have never seen a melee before."

Arya, who really had never seen a melee before, was sat on the other side of Lady Stark, almost on the edge of her seat. She was leaning forward and assessing each of the lined up competitors with a critical eye.

"You look lovely today Arya." Sansa said, and she truly did. Her little sister was wearing a neatly fitted dress of green blue velvet that showed how she was blossoming into womanhood. Somebody had done something very complicated and brilliant with her hair to make it look like an elegant arrangement decorated with small periwinkle forget-me-nots and beads of sapphire.

Arya looked at Sansa as scoffed as if to ask why Sansa sounded so surprised "I think Robb will win."

"Ten golden dragons says the champion will be my brother Jaime" Tyrion countered.

"Done"

"Arya!" Lady Stark cried and then in a cold voice "My daughter does not gamble ser"

The trumpets were announced and the King arrived. The crowd rose to their feet and everyone in the arena knelt as Robert took to the throne behind them, sat in between the Queen and Lord Stark. With bored indifference he decreed "Let the melee to begin."

Sansa would have watched the whole thing through her fingers if it had not been unladylike. Where once she had daydreamed of dashing knights in painted armour and being crowned Queen of Love and Beauty, now she hated tourneys and melees.

She hated that the crowds were so loud that she could barely talk to whoever she was sat next to, she hated how monotonous it could be when for long stretches nothing happened but the endless clanging of swords, she hated the blood and brutality of men she barely knew and she hated the lurch in her stomach whenever Harry had a near miss.

This time, instead of Harry being out there it was Jon. Sansa didn’t' want to watch the melee so she watched him. She didn't know anything about fighting but she knew he was good, at times he was almost graceful, dancelike in the way he moved while at others he was quick and brutal like a Fleabottom cutthroat. Sansa's insides churned as she watched the men who did not dare face the highest born competitors descend on him and he in turn beat them off with ease.

For a few brief moment she forgot to fear for him and wondered what it would be like if he actually won. He would be so happy and no-one else deserved the prize money so much.

The snow had been cleared from the arena and the grass below was churned into mud by the chaotic free for all. Clangs and bangs chimed with shouts and cheers from the crowd, highborn and smallfolk alike.

One by one the competitors dropped out, first the hedge knights in their cheap tin armour, then the lower born and landed knights. Theon fought well, taking down Ser Arys Oakheart but his cockiness at defeating a Kingsguard was his undoing and one of the Kettleblack brothers dealt him a blow to the back of the head whilst he was playing to the crowd.

Robb was defeated by Sandor Clegane, he fought valiantly but was no match for the Hound's strength. Sansa admired her mother's composure as Robb struggled off to the sides clutching his winded stomach. The Hound then turned to Jon and Sansa found her heart racing.

"Snow does not fight fairly" Lady Catelyn whispered next to Sansa.

While Robb had taken on Sandor sword to sword, Jon danced around him, in and out of reach, using the Hound's size and slowness against him until he tired.

Sansa clapped politely when he finally backed down, she was worried but she didn’t think Jon had done him any great harm. The crowd meanwhile cheered loudly, Arya and their little brothers were on their feet.

Jon looked up at the stands in their direction, his face was concealed by his visor but Sansa hoped he could see her nervous smile.

It soon became apparent that there were only three competitors left. The stands descended into a hush as they took in Jon, Ser Jaime Lannister and Prince Joffrey all standing in different corners of the arena.

There was a long drawn out pause as the remaining men gathered their breath and two squires ran forward to drag Harrion Karstark out of the arena, leaving a trail of blood behind them.

Eventually both Jon and the Kingslayer heaved a sigh and turned to face one another. Sansa's fingernails cut into her palms as she gripped her hands so tightly. Joffrey circled the duelling pair, observing but not participating.

"I tell you what, they don't half train them well at the Wall" She heard Bronn mutter.

"Be quiet" Tyrion said in fixed concentration "I have fifty dragons on this."

Both men were beginning to tire, even Sansa could tell. Their movements were slower, their blows more often missing. Maybe it was youth or skill but eventually the Kingslayer backed away, held up a hand and threw down his sword.

The crowd cheered wildly, Jon Snow of Winterfell had defeated that famously dishonourable scoundrel, the Kingslayer. By the side of the arena Robb was whooping and Sansa turned in her seat and saw her father beaming with love and pride.

"Ha ha!" the King slapped Ned Stark on the back "Your son and mine in battle, let us see who's boy is greatest."

Sansa felt sick to her core as she watched Joffrey and Jon begin to circle one another.

_Don't win._

Joffrey made the first swing but Jon darted out of his way.

_You are too smart to win. I know you._

Sansa edged further forwards on the wooden bench, a hand came to rest on her tort forearm as she clutched at her skirts. It was Tyrion. 'Think of tomorrow' he mouthed.

He meant tomorrow when Joffrey would return south and they would never see him again.

Tomorrow, when Tyrion and Jon would journey to Castle Black.

A desperate part of her wanted to go with them. They talked of it as the edge of the world with monsters and white walkers lurking in the darkness but it was becoming a safer and safer place in Sansa's mind. What might it be like seeing Jon not skulking about but a leader among men? He could take her to the top of the Wall, he said the world looked so beautiful from up there.

_Clang! Clang! Clang!_

They were parrying now with determination.

"Come on Jon, come on" Arya chanted under her breath.

Sansa held hers. Jon was slower, he had fought in the thick of it while the Prince had skirted around the edges of the arena.

They continued to swipe at one another, seemingly a match. "The bastard's giving it to him" Bronn muttered.

"Of course he is, he's no fool" Tyrion replied just as quietly.

Sansa sighed in relief as Jon missed a block and fell to the ground. He threw his sword into the mud and bowed his head in defeat.

The crowd roared, on their feet and cheering with joy for their prince. Sansa stood with the others around her and clapped politely as the King boomed with joy "Like father, like son!"

Joffrey was grinning, almost boyishly, he raised his sword in the air taking in all the adulation greedily. Sansa watched Jon retreat to side lines to be patted on the back by Robb and Theon. Tired and dirty but unhurt.

"Congratulations your graces. You should be very proud" Lady Catelyn joined in Sansa's father's compliments to the beaming King and Queen.

Sansa caught a glimpse of Arya and was surprised to see her smiling. She was not jubilant and glowing as the sun like Princess Mrycella and Prince Tommen but nor was she slumped, despondent and dejected as Bran and Rickon were.

Sansa frowned, even Theon looked more disappointed.

Robb strode into the arena, he was looking much better now. "A well won victory your grace. But your trials are not yet complete..." he called loudly and handed him a bag of gold and a wreath of blue winter roses. "For now, from all the fairest maidens in the North you must choose only one to be your Queen of Love and Beauty."

Sansa's stomach lurched.

There were cat calls and cries of laughter.

Sansa began to feel herself tremble as Joffrey's eyes traveled across to the royal box and his gaze landed squarely on hers.

"Tomorrow, tomorrow, think of tomorrow" Tyrion repeated beside her.

"There is only one that can name my Queen" Joffrey announced loudly to the crowd "One who's beauty shines above all others..."

_No. No._

Joffrey strode towards the royal box with purpose. "The most true and fair maid in the North…"

Out of the corner of her eye, Sansa saw her mother smile and turn her head and then she finally understood.

_NO!_

"...Lady Arya Stark."

* * *

"Ow, ow, get off me"

The second it was all over, the crowning, the pagentry, the cheers and the smiles, Sansa found Arya from amongst the throng and dragged her, by the scruff of her collar.

She searched out a guard room in the outer wall, dark and dusty but more importantly empty. She threw Arya in and locked the door behind them.

"What the gods was that?" Sansa demanded.

"Well that was you going mad so I guess the Imp has the pox" Arya answered derisively.

"Don't jape, this is not a jest" Sansa ordered and she grabbed the crown of flowers from Arya's head, crushing the flowers in her hand "What is this?" she shook the wreath angrily in her sister's face, petals fell off and Sansa threw the wretched thing into the dirt "Why did Joffrey crown you Queen of Love and Beauty?"

Arya looked down at the ruined wreath lying on the dirt floor, her eyes were momentarily bereft but a second later she looked up and she was furious "Why did he crown Arya Underfoot his Queen of Love and Beauty do you mean? Of course there must be a scheme, a nefarious plot. Who could ever think Horseface was beautiful?" She sneered sarcastically.

"That is not what I meant" Sansa replied though gritted teeth "Answer the question!"

"No, why should I listen to the ramblings of a deranged woman." Arya said, trying to push past her "Let me go."

Sansa grabbed her sister by the shoulders and shook her "Are you betrothed? Tell me! Are you betrothed!"

Slowly and very deliberately Arya said.

"Yes..."

Sansa stilled

"...The King is announcing it at the feast tonight."

"No!" Sansa cried "You have to say no. Tell mother and father you don't want it. Stop it."

"Why?"

"Arya!" Sansa looked at her as though she was the one who was deranged "This can't happen."

"Why?" Arya repeated her demand "Because the thought of me being betrothed to the Crown Prince is too absurd to even consider?"

"He's a monster. You can't marry him. You just can't!"

Arya narrowed her eyes "You're jealous."

"No!"

"Yes you are" Arya declared "You're jealous because you always wanted to marry the Prince. You always wanted to be Queen and now you're stuck with the Imp while your ugly little sister gets the life you always thought you deserved."

"I don't care about that, I don't care about any of that."

"Liar!"

"I'm not lying" Sansa cried "He's evil, he'll hurt you."

"I don't believe you!"

"Listen to me, I'm trying to protect you!"

Arya laughed darkly "You think I don't know that you don't give a damn about me. Always laughing at me, always judging me. Mother's favourite. The perfect lady. You even took Jon...what you think I can't hear his laugh through the walls late at night as you both mock me?"

"No, that's not what this is, stop saying that..."

"It's exactly what it is!" Arya shouted "Well things are going to be different now. I'm going to marry the Prince and then _you_ will curtsey to _me._ "

She shoved Sansa away and stormed out of the guard room.

* * *

The sun was fading fast by the time Sansa left the guard room, the sky was streaked scarlet as she furiously wiped her eyes on her sleeve. She went straight to her mother and found her in the Great Hall organising the shortcoming feast. Sansa tugged at her sleeve but Lady Stark batted her away.

"I'm sorry I'm too busy at the moment darling. We'll talk at the feast...Dorys those are the wrong goblets."

"But it'll be too late…" Sansa protested weakly as she watched her mother become swamped by stewards, maids, cooks and guards, all with frantic questions.

Next she ran to her father's solar, almost knocking down Maester Luwin's clerk, but she found the room empty. Tears pricked once more in her eyes as she imagined all the things Joffrey would do to Arya. Arya trapped in Kings Landing. Joffrey allowed to have her alone, sanctioned by law and the gods to do with her whatever he wished.

She gazed around her father's empty solar in desperation. Would he even believe her? Arya hadn't.

She searched for Tyrion, bursting in on him as he was changing tunics for the feast.

"My, this is a pleasant surprise" He greeted warmly.

"Arya and Joffrey are betrothed." She burst out.

Tyrion gave a heavy sigh and sat down. "I see."

He didn't look entirely surprised.

"You have to stop it." Sansa pleaded "Before it is announced. You have to tell my father what he's like."

Tyrion chuckled darkly "You think your father believes what I say? He looks down on me...figuratively as well as literally."

"He will listen. I know he will, if both of us tell him what Joffrey is. What he did." Sansa fell to her knees and looked him in the eye.

Tyrion rubbed his face and sighed again with despair "My sister has spies everywhere. If she or the Prince find out I have interfered…."

"They won't." Sansa said quickly.

"You can’t promise that" Tyrion replied wearily.

"Please, she's only a child. You have to protect her."

"No. I have to protect _you_ , there was no mention of Arya Stark in our wedding vows." Tyrion countered "And the best way I can protect you is for both of us to keep our heads down until Joffrey leaves this place."

"No...please" Sansa whimpered. "I'll lie with you. I'll give you babes."

For a moment he looked tempted.

"I'm sorry" Tyrion breathed and as she started to cry again "It's too late anyway. The agreement will have been signed by now. Lord Stark can not break a promise to the King and the King will not suffer another lost Stark bride."

Sansa wrenched away and sobbed. She fled the room, banging the door behind her as Tyrion feebly called after her.

She ran down the corridor and crashed into something solid.

"Sansa?"

She could barely see through her tears but she knew Jon's voice "Y...you h...have t...to...h...he's g...going to h...hurt her...she knows...m...mother…" she blubbed clutching his doublet, half her words smothered as she buried her face into his chest.

"Shh, shh" Jon whispered, stroking her hair "Come on."

He gently steered her into an empty chamber, Sansa had no idea if it was hers, his or belonged to another. It was dark and cold, the sun had fallen now and light only came from one lone candle.

"H...he'll kill...she w...won't listen…" Sansa continued to cry as Jon guided her into a chair and knelt before her.

"Sansa I don't understand" Jon said softly, he raised her chin so that she could see his steady reassuring gaze. Slowly Jon wiped the tears from her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs "Tell me what is wrong and I will fix it. I swear."

He was sturdy and strong and he looked at her like he would die for her. His arms had come up to hold the arm rests of her chair, holding her in a protective bracket.

Sansa took several deep breaths and swallowed, wiping back the tears "Arya's b...betrothed to Joffrey. It will be announced at the feast tonight but she c...can't marry him, she just can't…"

Jon frowned, his expression confused "But I thought it was to be Robb and Myrcella."

"He'll hurt her Jon" Sansa cried, angry that he wasn't listening "You don't understand. He's a monster. Tyrion won't do anything. Arya won't listen and it's too late and I can't stop it. She thinks I've stolen you and he'll beat her and humiliate her and...and… I don't know what to do…"

As she spoke Jon's face slowly fell and his jaw hardened. His eyes became dark, he ran a hand through his shaggy dark hair, he looked around the small dark room before fixing her once more with a determined look "He hurt you?" his breath came out shortly, in angry puffs

Sansa nodded "He...he touches me" she whispered "He threatens me."

Jon's grip on her armrests tightened and his knuckles became white.

"Tyrion is taking me to the Free Cities but he won't protect Arya. He says it's not his responsibility" Sansa said, her voice wavering, she felt weak and feeble "Podrick tried to protect me and Joffrey murdered him. He made him go on that hunt then he hunted Podrick, he killed him."

She felt weak and feeble and yet as she spoke, it felt like there had been spikes in her gut that were now retreating, as though the pain was lessening but she had begun to bleed out. She wanted to sink into the oblivion of Jon's dark eyes.

"You know what Arya's like. Once they are betrothed she'll be at his mercy and he'll beat the stubbornness out of her."

"Ok, ok" Jon repeated the words as though to himself, his voice sounded hollow "We'll tell father."

"He won't listen, it's too late."

"He will. I'll make him listen, I swear" Jon promised hoarsely.

**Myrcella**

"I can't find them anywhere. They are not in the hall" Rosamund whispered when she darted back to her seat.

Myrcella's heart sank and she tried very hard not to panic. The first course of the feast would be finishing soon and it would soon be time for the performance of _The Tale of Duran and Elenei._

The audience getting progressively drunker and drunker, Lord Stark himself had disappeared shortly before the betrothal had been announced and now the Lady of the Moon and the Cloud God were also missing.

"Oh no, oh no" Myrcella worried and she tried to think very quickly "You will have to take her part."

"I can't do that!" Rosy cried "The Goddess of the Wind and the Lady of the Moon conspire together. I can't talk to myself in that scene."

"Shh" Myrcella hissed.

Joffrey was sitting right next to her. He was listening to Lord Karstark praise his performance in the melee but she didn't want him to overhear them. He was already in a bad enough mood and she didn't want him to take it out on poor Sansa.

She watched as his eyes glazed over during Karstark's words and then briefly flitted to where the King sat further along the dias, drinking and reliving old war stories with Lord Manderly of White Harbour. Their father had triumphed at Joffrey's victory out in the stands but avowals of Joffrey's prowess soon turned to boasts of where he had got it from which very quickly became tales of beating back Jon Connington with an ale in one hand and a serving wench in the other.

Joffrey was forgotten once more.

Myrcella watched as a sneer crept over her brother's face and she tried not to cower. She hadn't wanted to sit next to him but mother had said she must, that she must make sure he was not rude to the Stark girl during their betrothal feast.

On the other side of Joffrey sat Arya Stark who had about her a wild beauty that Myrcella desperately envied. Myrcella likened her to the moors outside Winterfell, ethereal and untamed but breathtaking. The sapphires in Arya's hair sparkled in the candlelight, she had taken off the crown of flowers and no doubt it was carefully stored in her rooms to be cherished as a memory of this day.

Myrcella thought she would make a good Queen. She sat and listened patiently as each Northern lord came up to pay their compliments and unlike Joffrey, nodded along and thanked them for their words. Her face was still, like carved diamond. It reminded Myrcella of her mother, the Queen whose own visage rarely betrayed any emotion. Myrcella wished she could make her face do that.

"There is no narration in that part of the play. Maybe you and Robb could take Jon and Sansa's parts?" Rosy suggested weakly.

Myrcella felt her face go red " _No_ …I can't, I just…that would be _awful._ "

She had never felt so embarrassed in her life as when the King announced Joff and Arya's betrothal. She and Rosamund had got the wrong Baratheon-Stark match and the dashing Robb Stark was not to be hers after all. He would go to the beautiful Lady Tallhart or lively Alys Karstark. When Myrcella thought about how she had fluttered her eyelashes at him it made her want to crawl into a hole in the ground and never come out again.

She became aware that she was breathing frantically and Rosy rubbed her arm telling her to breath "Don't worry, I'll ask the Poole girl. We'll find someone else to play the Cloud God as well."

As Rosamund left to search for Sonya Poole, Myrcella felt a gaze on her. It was her mother. She sat up and straightened her spine.

"You look as pale as a ghost my dear" Her Uncle Tyrion had wandered over from where he had been conversing with Winterfell's Maester "Are you quite well?"

"Just a little nervous" Myrcella forced a smile so she would not worry him.

"You are the finest artist in the known world my dear. There is no need for nerves." Her uncle nodded to a golden jug on the table top "Have a sip. You are old enough for a taste and it will calm you, I promise."

He made to return to the Maester but was spotted by Joffrey.

"Uncle! You do not congratulate me?"

"Of course" Tyrion gave a false smile "You stood very well as the other knights fought. The North has not seen a truer champion since Lord Monkeyface."

Lady Arya gave an involuntary snort. Joffrey scowled at her "Come here" he hissed, his fists clenching on his arm rests.

Myrcella had learned from a young age to fear that voice.

Tyrion stepped forward "Your grace" was all he had time to say before the king upended his chalice over their uncle's head. The wine washed down over his face in a red torrent. It drenched his hair, washed his eyes, ran down his cheeks, and soaked the velvet of his new doublet. His man Bronn appeared in the shadows behind them but Myrcella was the only one to notice his presence.

"How do you like that, Imp?" Joffrey mocked.

Many around them laughed. Arya gasped, as did a few others, whilst her mother, Lady Stark appeared alarmed, she looked as though she was about to say something but then the Queen giggled and drew her back into conversation.

Their mother would always protect Joffrey. Myrcella looked for her father but saw that the King's focus was elsewhere.

"That was ill done Joffrey" Myrcella said quietly and she leaned over the table to hand her uncle a napkin so he might dry himself.

"Not at all, sweetling." Tyrion replied, apparently unwilling to let things escalate in Sansa's family seat. "Not every prince would think to honour a humble subject by serving him from his own royal chalice. A pity the wine spilled."

"It didn't spill," said Joffrey, too graceless to take the retreat Tyrion offered him. "And I wasn't serving you, either. Now refill my chalice"

With a clenched jaw Tyrion did so. Joffrey watched him pour the wine with satisfaction "You will serve as my cupbearer for the rest of the night."

Next to him Arya scorned "You need someone to pour your wine for you?"

"It's a punishment"

"For what? He was right, you barely did any fighting. No one attacked you because you're the Crown Prince."

Joffrey's eyes were as venomous as snakes "How dare you speak…"

"A toast!" The Queen was on her feet, raising her goblet in air "Let us drink to honour the triumph of the melee champion and your Prince Joffrey and his fair bride to be, the Lady Arya Stark."

All of the occupants of the hall raised their goblets and toasted with her. All but the King who laughed and the kitchen maid on his knee "We've already toasted them woman, are you deaf?"

Myrcella felt herself burn with embarrassment. She thought about how Robb Stark must be congratulating himself on a lucky escape from a union with such a family.

After the toast, her mother summoned Joffrey to her side, no doubt to try to smooth things over with Lady Stark and Tyrion returned to his seat.

Food was quickly disappearing from people's plates now and Myrcella felt her stomach skip again at the prospect of the play.

Rosamund reappeared, out of breath "Sonya and Captain Cassel have agreed to play Jon and Sansa's parts."

Myrcella looked at her in horror "Captain Cassel? But he's part of the household guard! _Mother!"_

Rosy gulped in realisation "Shall I tell them no?"

"No. It's too late now" Myrcella replied mournfully as she thought of her mother's reaction to a guard acting alongside her own children.

The glint of candlelight on Joffrey's golden chalice caught the corner of her eye and Myrcella remembered how her uncle said wine would settle her nerves. Septa Eglantine said that wine was made by the Stranger to entice the faithful into sin and death but all around her, including her parents were drinking with wild abandon.

The chalice was still full, Joffrey having been called away before he could take a sip, he wouldn't miss any.

Myrcella brought it to her lips and tasted it, it was fruity and sour. It wasn't horrible.

"Oh can I have some." Rosy asked eagerly.

Myrcella nodded, but first took a longer sip. She brought the chalice down. The wine tickled her throat, she coughed. She coughed again.

"'Cella?" Rosy touched her shoulder.

She kept coughing. Myrcella clutched at her throat. She couldn't breathe.

**Ned**

Ned collapsed in into a chair by the fire and cradled his head in his hands. It had been a long day of watching men swing swords at his sons for 'sport'. He curled his lip at the sport and shuddered as he remembered watching Robb stagger out the melee arena.

The candles had burned from high to low during his meeting with Old Harlon Carn whose keep sat at the mouth of the Weeping Water and whose family was sworn to House Bolton. The Dreadfort had summoned Carn's smith, supposedly to work on gate repairs but the smith had told his wife who had told Carn that he had been ordered to make helmets.

Roose Bolton was preparing for war.

"I never would have thought young Roose would rebel against Winterfell" Carn had said rubbing his wrinkled hands to stop them trembling "These are dark times."

They were indeed.

Bolton was not one to incite a rebellion or even hope for one. He was too prudent, his personal motto was 'a peaceful land, a quiet people.' If this was true (and Carn had no reason to lie) then war was coming to the North. Did Bolton know whether another house was actually plotting or did he just smell it in wind?

The Dreadfort's secrecy revealed where their loyalties lay.

Robert would back him and Riverrun and Casterly Rock would be obliged to support him but...a war in winter...thousands would die. Robb was not yet twenty and this would be his second war. How lucky could one father be?

Another dreadful thought came to him.

Bran was old enough to squire. It would be expected.

He had already lost Jon, Sansa and Arya, he did not want to send his little chubby cheeked boy off to some frozen battlefield.

There was a knock on the solar door and Jon and Sansa entered. Ned nodded to them but was almost too lost in thought to register Sansa's red eyes and Jon's grave expression.

With the South's support maybe they could end any uprising before too many were killed.

"Father" Jon called his attention "We need to talk about Arya."

And then Ned had another set of problems.

"Are you certain, absolutely certain, that Prince Joffrey killed this boy?" He finally sighed after a period of reflection.

"She just told you he did" Jon exclaimed angrily. "Have you gone so deaf you cannot hear your own daughter?"

"Sansa told me the squire was shot during a hunt" Ned replied, trying to keep his tone measured "Those hunts are a danger, men and arrows in all directions. How do you know it was murder and not some accident, mayhaps by another hand?" Sansa was pale and trembling, it disturbed Ned to see her so distressed, he rubbed her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner "Wealth and power corrupt at a young age. I have no doubt that Joffrey has treated you badly but when Robert was his age, he was not so different and…"

"Joffrey is nothing like the King" Sansa cut through in a strong voice that held the trace of tears "He hurts people. He hurts me, he will hurt Arya."

She peeled back her left sleeve and revealed old and faded bruises on her pale skin. Ned's blood ran cold.

"The prince did this?"

Sansa nodded.

There was a growl behind him "I'll kill him" Jon vowed.

"No!" cried Sansa, grabbing her brother's arm to stop him from leaving the solar "Podrick tried to protect me and Joffrey killed him. I won't lose you too."

"How could the Imp allow this to happen?!" Ned asked angrily. In his head he imagined stringing up both uncle and nephew for what they had done to his little girl. His Sansa, his first child he held new from her mother's womb.

"He tries…" Sansa defended "He's taking me to the Free Cities where I'll be safe. And he's clever, he's good at tricking, if it wasn't for Tyrion, Joffrey would've….would've taken…" He knew what she's trying to say and it made him sick "Tyrion protects me"

She's still shaking but says firmly "You have to stop the betrothal."

Ned nodded. _Yes, yes of course._

"I'll speak to Robert now."

He swallowed dryly as he left the solar, Jon and Sansa followed at his heels. When Carn had come to speak to him, with fear in his eyes and war on his lips, Ned had given leave for the feast to start without him.

Dark thoughts clouded his mind, of war, Robert, his daughters...He had known Sansa had been unhappy, he realised that now but he chose not to think on it too much because he did not like to think of what he had done, of what it would mean for his people if he went against the Lannisters. As a boy, Ned swore he would never be like his father, that he would never send his children away.

He knew now that it was naive to think you could be a good lord and a good father.

The noise from the hall reached them quickly and the sounds of feasting and singing grew louder as they drew closer. The betrothal couldn't have been announced yet Ned told himself, not whilst he, Arya's father, was absent. There should still be time.

The raucous grew louder and louder, Ned could hear shouts and a taste of trouble lodged in his throat. When he opened the doors to the great hall, he saw the room alive with gaiety, tankards sloshing with ale, dancing, men gorging themselves on meat as women cackled in merriment.

Something else was happening, though...at the top table.

The King was pale and shaking, paralysed such a fear that Ned had never seen in Robert.

"She's choking" Arya's high pitched cry carried through the hall.

The 'she' was Myrcella, stood up and hunched over the table, gasping wretchedly. Her young face growing more and more purple.

"Help the poor girl!" Catelyn shouted.

Ned tried to stride through the feasters to the dias but pandemonian had broken out at the cries as everyone else realised what was going on.

Robb was running down the dias, he shoved Joffrey out on the way to pound the princess on the back but it didn't seem to work. The Queen was screaming while Prince Tommen cried. Maester Luwin shouted for someone to fetch his potions as he tried desperately to fight through the crowds to reach the princess.

"Turn her over, shake her by the heels" Someone called out.

"Water, give her water!" Ned shouted.

Arya and Robb tried to obey him but Myrcella didn't seem capable of swallowing. Her face was only growing darker. She began to claw at her throat, her nails tearing bloody gouges in the flesh, red streamed down deathly white shoulders to stain her golden silk dress.

She was going to die, Ned realised as he finally forced his way to the top table. Cat appeared by his side and clasped his arm in fear, Ned could only rub her fingers as he watched. Useless. Trying to think of some way to stop it.

Dogs were barking, children were wailing, men and women shouted useless advice at each other. Half the feasters were on their feet, some shoving at each other for a better view, others rushing for the doors in their haste to get away, to not witness such a tragedy.

Luwin finally reached her and with Robb's help he pried the princess's mouth open to jam a potion down her throat. The girl was only twelve. Her eyes bulged white with terror as she lifted her hand...reaching for something, he couldn't see.

"Noooo," Cersei wailed, "Jaime help her, someone help her, my daughter, my daughter . . . "

But her brother stood limp, as useless and scared as Ned and the King. Her other brother, the Imp had picked up a fallen chalice and was examining it as though it was to blame. "Is there another Maester?!" Catelyn called out to the hall, apparently thinking that Luwin needed help.

Sansa was weeping softly in Jon's arms whilst Theon stood behind Rickon and Bran, clutching their shoulders protectively. Ned could barely see now, the Queen, Robb, Arya and Luwin had formed a protective cocoon around the dying girl.

When he heard Cersei's scream, he knew that it was over. Arya, Robb and Luwin stepped back to leave her to her grief, the Queen sat in a puddle of wine, cradling her daughter's limp body.

Ned looked to Robert, he was white as chalk and shaking "She's gone.." He whispered, over and over again to himself "She's gone...my girl...my Myrcella…"

The princess's septa was comforting poor Prince Tommen, she spoke quietly but in the deathly silence her voice carried "She choked, sweetling. It must have been the pie. It was naught to do with you. She choked. We all saw."

"She did not choke." Prince Joffrey's voice was as sharp as a sword. Ned had forgotten about the prince, he stood against the back wall, as pale and shaken as his father. "My sister was poisoned. She drank from my chalice. Kingsguard do your duty."

"Your grace?" asked Ser Arys Oakheart, his voice was uncertain.

"Arrest my uncle" The Crown Prince commanded him "He did this, the dwarf. He killed my sister. He tried to kill me, your future king. Take him!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that happened...poor Myrcella, she didn't deserve to die but that is true for many in the world of Game of Thrones. The next chapter will start to deal with the fallout of Myrcella's death and Lord Tywin will enter the story.
> 
> Thank you for all your reviews so far, I love getting your feedback. Please let me know what you think of this chapter and the story so far (positive and negative criticism welcome).


	14. Oh praise the eternal justice of man

**Jon**

Tyrion's fate seemed set in stone.

Luwin examined the body that night and found no evidence of choking.

"I saw no blockage in her throat my lord. There was blood in her nostrils and her eyes had darkened to a dark plum colour. These are not signs of a usual choking." The maester told them in Lord Stark's solar.

"It was poison then" Eddard Stark confirmed mournfully.

Jon wondered where the King was...drinking himself to death probably. He hadn't objected to the Queen and Prince Joffrey's orders to throw Tyrion into Winterfell dungeons. He had seemed numb by that point.

"Do you think the Imp really did it?" Theon asked casually, as though just out of interest.

"Sansa swears not" Jon answered.

"What does Sansa know? It’s natural she would not want to think such a thing of her husband" Robb countered "But we all saw how Joffrey treated his uncle at the feast."

"Spilled wine is no motive to murder" Luwin said calmly but firmly "I can't imagine why an uncle would want to kill his own nephew."

"I can" said a dark low voice.

Robb, Theon and Luwin looked at Lord Stark questioningly but Jon's father said no more. Joffrey had murdered Tyrion's squire, he'd touched and tormented Sansa. If Jon were Tyrion he would have killed the little prick a long time ago and if the Imp was guilty then he deserved a bloody champion's purse not the cells.

That thought was quickly doused as he remembered the terror in little Myrcella's eyes as she clawed at her own throat.

There was a knock at the door and Lady Stark entered. She carried a sleeping Hosten on her hip, as if she couldn't bare to parted from her youngest child.

"They have finished the search" She announced gravely.

"And?" Her husband asked but Jon knew the answer could not be good. The Queen had ordered her men to tear Tyrion's room apart while she and Lady Stark watched.

"They found a poison called the Strangler hidden in his trunk, wrapped up in socks."

"What kind of fool hides his poison in his own room?" Theon asked, mocking.

"The kind who's being set up" Jon answered.

Catelyn Stark gave him a cold glare "Any man who is stupid and reckless enough to kill the wrong person is stupid and reckless enough not to cover his tracks." she said icily and she clutched Hosten to her more tightly "Arya was sitting on the other side of the prince. She could have drunk from that goblet! She could have been killed!"

"I know that but…" Jon started to argue, anger starting to swell up inside of him.

"Enough" his father said loudly "We'll have a trial and get to the truth of the matter." He gave a heavy sigh "There's no more we can do tonight. Go to bed all of you."

One by one they reluctantly obeyed. All except Jon who stayed back in his father's solar. He still felt angry at Catelyn Stark and did not want to be alone with her in a narrow corridor.

How dare she imply he had forgotten Arya? He had not forgotten any of them, any of his siblings who might have picked up that chalice during the whirling hubbub of a feast at Winterfell when men came and went from their own and other's seats with ease, where the food and drink might as well be laid out in a trough for how communal they were.

He wondered if Sansa felt like this, torn between sympathy for whoever tried to kill Joffrey and horror at the deed they performed. He leaned against the wall and watched his father cradle his head in his hands.

Lord Stark, who had once looked so fearless and strong to him as a boy now seemed ready to crumble under the weight of the worries thrust upon him. "What are you still doing here? The Night's Watch did not make you give up sleep along with everything else." His father said gruffly.

"What about Arya?" Jon asked quietly.

There was another heavy sigh.

"I can't ask Robert to go back on the betrothal. Not now. Not after he's announced it to the entire North."

Jon clenched his jaw shut to stave off the curses and slurs that itched to come out. A rational part of him understood that the King's fury on being embarrassed on such a scale, just after the death of his daughter, would be torrential. But on the other...Sansa's tears, the fear in her eyes…

"So you're just going to hand her to such a creature?" Jon asked in a tight voice.

His father's head snapped towards him "Neither of the girls will ever be left alone with that boy again, I promise you that." His voice became more measured "The King needs time to grieve. I need time to plan and there is no rush, a wedding will not be talked of for years yet. It maybe that I won't be able to end the betrothal until we are in Kings Landing but I will end it. Carefully and properly. I will end that betrothal, trust me."

But that was the problem, Jon didn't trust him anymore.

* * *

In the days that followed Myrcella's death a melancholia hung around Winterfell like a dark mist. The princess was that rare creature that was liked by everyone. Sweet, gifted and beautiful she had been admired by highborn and servants alike. Even the smallfolk women in Wintertown, who had never met the little princess, tore their dresses in a sign of mourning.

People seemed to speak more quietly, move through the halls at a slower pace, even the food seemed drabber as though those in the kitchens were also suffering.

Princess My **r** cella had been named in the light of the seven and so her funeral was held in the sept at Winterfell. A tiny little thing, built for Lady Stark by her husband on their marriage, Jon heard it was barely big enough to hold the Royal Family and that the Queen complained about the size loudly.

After a few days King Robert seemed to come out of his shock and he descended into a kind of wild anger that Jon had not seen since the War Beyond the Wall. He wanted Tyrion dead. Now.

"Give me the damned key to his cell!" He demanded loudly of Lord Stark during one dinner, bellowing so loudly the entire hall could hear him "I'll gut him like a fish and string his innards up on the battlements."

Jon wasn't quite sure how his father was keeping Tyrion alive until the trial but it seemed to be working and for Sansa's sake he was grateful.

"It wasn't him, I know it. He wouldn't be so stupid as to leave the poison in his own room." She said convinced "Besides we had a plan. We were going to the Free Cities."

Jon wanted to agree with her but even she had admitted in the past that despite years of marriage, she did not know Tyrion very well. Maybe the man had snapped. Maybe he just wanted to get one last bout of revenge before leaving the realm.

There were whispers running round Winterfell that Joffrey had threatened his uncle on the morning of the melee .

Sansa was being watched. Not officially, not overtly but every step she took was now closely observed. "It's the Queen, I think she's waiting for me to do something to signal my guilt" She confided in him in whispers "If it were up to her I would be in the dungeons alongside Tyrion but I think she fears how Father would react without proof."

So Jon could not go to her rooms (not that he could anyway as he was still sharing with Theon) but every day or so they took a little walk together. Somewhere remote and quiet, the Godswood or along the moat. There was nothing wrong with a half brother and his half sister taking a walk in broad daylight.

Jon was sick of it, he craved the warmth and intimacy of Sansa's rooms.

"You don't believe me, do you?" They were on top of the battlements, looking out trees of the Wolfswood that were peppered with snow under a pale grey sky. Sansa peered at him with narrowed eyes like a hawk and he couldn't tell whether or not she was truly angry with him.

"I don't know" Jon huffed "You know him better than I but...we both know he had motive."

"A thousand people had motive. Tyrion wouldn’t' do something so reckless. He wouldn't endanger others at the feast and he wouldn't risk leaving me alone. He protects me. He is the only one who does, the only one who cared"

"He is not the only one"

"Father gave me to the Lannisters. He allows Arya's betrothal to continue unchallenged." Sansa argued, the wind whipping long strands of red hair across her face, she looked almost wild "Or were you talking of yourself? You have to go back to the Wall, how will you protect me from there? Tyrion is the only one who protects me because he's the only one who's always by my side."

"Well he's not here now is he?" Jon shot back, annoyed "For all his famed cleverness and virtue, your precious husband is locked up in a cell and look where his recklessness has left you."

"I told you he didn't do it."

Jon wondered if one of Cersei's spies wanted to interrupt and save him from this nightmarish trap "I don't want argue anymore" he huffed "The trial hasn't even started yet, why hasn't it started it yet?"

Sansa's spirit seemed to fade "We are awaiting Lord Tywin."

* * *

Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock rode into the inner bailey of Winterfell twelve days later on top of a magnificent white destrier, wearing in lion engraved armour that gleamed golden under the winter sun and accompanied by a guard of red cloaked Lannister soldiers and the biggest warrior that Jon had ever seen south of the Wall. To an ordinary man's eye he did not look much different to any other rich lord with his caparisoned horse and stern grey face but the old man emitted a fearsome and intimidating aura that Jon had not seen before.

It was an aura only enhanced by the gigantic knight half a step behind him, a man with boulders for shoulders and arms as thick as tree trunks with short cropped black hair and a brutal snarling expression.

"It's the Mountain that Rides" Bran whispered to Jon and Jon noticed the yellow cloak bearing on it the three black dogs of House Clegane.

Lord Lannister had brought with him Ser Gregor Clegane, the rumoured butcher of Princess Elia and the Targaryen babes. Jon turned his head to watch his father and saw not to his surprise that Lord Stark's jaw was clenched and his eyes glared in barely veiled rage. He hadn't known Clegane was coming. Jon saw Lady Stark touch her hand to her husband's wrist, perhaps silently reminding him that Winterfell did not need any more blood on it's frozen cobblestones.

Maybe it was because, in Winterfell at least, Lord Tywin was most known for the horrors of the Sack of Kings Landing but the Lord of the Westerlands seemed to bring a hushed silence and feared obedience wherever he trod in the castle.

Even Ned Stark was more respectful than Jon had ever seen him - though Jon was not fool enough to believe that his father actually respected the man (his restrained anger at having Lord Tywin and Clegane in his halls was clear for Jon to see). Instead Lord Lannister's presence was a very visible reminder that Casterly Rock held a debt that could starve every man, woman and child in the North.

Even the King had been foolish enough to fall into debt with the Lannisters. _It all comes down to coin_ , Jon thought bitterly and he wondered briefly what Elia Martell would say if she knew her murder and those of her children went unpunished for the sake of gold.

But gold was not the reason Jon feared Tywin Lannister. If Tyrion was executed then his father would become Sansa's guardian and would take her back to Casterly Rock with him.

The reality of such a prospect had become clearer and clearer in the lead up to the Old Lion's arrival as Jon watched Sansa become paler, more withdrawn, more like the timid little creature that dined with him and her husband two moon prior. Jon swore he saw her tremble when Lord Tywin kissed her hand on his arrival, although when he asked her about it later she had insisted she was well and was grateful that her goodfather was in Winterfell. She hoped however much Lord Tywin might hate his dwarf son, he would not stand by and see him executed.

Indeed there had been some whisper about what Lord Tywin would do once he arrived at Winterfell, how he would react to the accusation that his son (and undeclared but rightful heir) has murdered his royal granddaughter. Some thought that he would demand Tyrion's freedom the moment he came through the gates (he did not), while others whispered that this was the chance Lord Tywin has been waiting for...to rid himself of his humiliation of an heir once and for all.

They would find out one way or another at the trial.

* * *

On the morning of the trial, hundreds crowded into the Great Hall to see justice delivered. The spectators squashed in together, with backs to the walls on either side of a long hareskin carpet that ran from the great oak doors to a small wooden dock. Looming over it was the dias, the table on which the Stark family usually dined had been removed and all that remained were three throne like chairs. Flanking the dias and the dock were benches where the Royal family and the Starks sat.

Jon pushed his way through the crowd to try and get as close to the front as possible although it was difficult with everyone shoving, jostling and jockeying to see better. People appeared more eager for the trial than the melee, _after all how often was the Queen's brother accused of the murder of the Princess._

Stannis killed a princess, his own daughter. Jon had thought he could trust Stannis, that he was the only southroner with sense in his head but in the end he turned out as foul as Craster.

Somehow or other, Jon ended up close to the front, plastered against the west wall but able to see over the heads of those in front of him right into the empty dock. He noticed that he was alongside Tyrion's man Bronn.

Bronn was unusually dressed, Jon was used to seeing the cutthroat in boiled leather over old armour but today he wore a smart cream doublet and a short navy cloak. Bronn noticed him looking.

"Do you like them?" He raised the hem of his cloak with a sardonic flare. "The gloves are doveskin, softer than a virgin's thighs."

"Sounds expensive" Jon remarked.

Bronn shrugged "It's worth it. My lonesome bachelor days are over, I'm to wed Lady Lollys Stokeworth. I doubt you'll have heard of her at the Wall, her mother is Lady Tanda of Castle Stokeworth. It's in the Crownlands, just north of Kings Landing and I'm told has some lovely vineyards."

Jon frowned "Sounds very expensive" he said. Lollys Stokeworth was one of Sansa's correspondents, Sansa said she had no wits but Jon couldn't imagine that her mother was so desperate she would give her daughter to a low-born lot like Bronn.

Bronn smirked "Well I don't come cheap."

"Am I to take it then that you will not be standing if there is trial by combat?" there was no response "Have you told Tyrion?"

"We've had words" The man's tone was less jovial than it had been.

"I see. Your friend's life is worse less to you than new clothes and a dim wife." Jon said in a tone which was more cutting than he originally intended. Still, the way they acted you would have thought Bronn was the Imp's brother, rather than the Kingslayer.

The turncloak gave him a grim look "I like the little fellow, I do, but the King and Queen are planning to put up the Mountain as their champion. Probably the only thing they've agreed upon in their entire bloody marriage"

"Does he frighten you that much?" Jon said

"I'd be a fool if he didn't, he's freakish big and freakish strong. And surprisingly quick for a man his size. Maybe one time out of ten I could defeat him but why should I risk my life on those other nine times." Bronn said forcefully and Jon wondered if he was trying to convince Jon or himself.

"So you can call me greedy and you can call me a coward but I'd rather be those things than have my skull dashed against the wall like the little Prince Aegon."

 _He may be honest, he may be pragmatic but he reeks of guilt_ , Jon thought.

The Mountain himself stood by the dias, below what was sure to be Lord Tywin's chair. A great hulking beast of a man, Jon had heard rumours since his arrival of dead wives, a dead sister and servants who were broken, bloody and numb from fear. The beast didn't frighten Jon (he had seen worse) but the elder Clegane's presence did put him on edge and he felt uneasy just from being within a few feet of the man.

The doors to the hall opened once again and a hush fell over the room as the Starks and Baratheons entered, accompanied by Theon and Ser Jaime. All but Ser Jaime (in his gold Kingsguard armour) wore black and the women had tears in their dresses as a sign of mourning. The two families divided to sit on opposing flanks of benches and Jon noticed that Arya sat with the Starks. She was supposed to of course but Jon wondered if her attitude to Joffrey and her betrothal had cooled, she like the rest of them couldn't help but notice that the Prince seemed more furious that someone had tried to kill him than that they had succeeded in murdering his sister.

Jon had wanted to talk to Arya since Myrcella's death, so much had happened and she needed to be put on her guard about Joffrey but his sister had rebuffed every approach he or Sansa made.

She seemed to think they had betrayed her, Jon in particular, that he had chosen Sansa over Arya. She had heard them through the walls of her chambers, not what they were saying but enough to know that Jon spent his evenings with Sansa. It was absurd, of course it was, Arya was his little sister, one of his most favourite people for as long as he could remember and Sansa was...she was something different.

How could he possibly explain it to her when he could barely even explain it to himself? The two girls occupied such different spaces, Arya was all fun and laughter while Sansa...she brought up something more...primal. Feelings that shamed and thrilled him at the same time.

She was sitting with the Lannisters. She looked so achingly sad that Jon just wanted to hold her until her misery drained away.

"What is Casterly Rock like?" He asked Bronn.

Bronn shrugged "It's like any other bloody castle with turrets and moats and all the rest. Course it’s a much duller than Winterfell or the Red Keep. Lord Tywin never smiles and he makes sure that nobody else does either."

If Tyrion died then his uncle Kevan Lannister would become heir to Casterly Rock. Robb had told him that Lady Stark supposed Lord Tywin would marry Sansa to Kevan's eldest son, Lancel Lannister, an insipid, foppish boy with floppy yellow hair who served as squire to the King. Lancel would want Sansa with him in Kings Landing, with Joffrey, and the boy looked far worse able to protect her than Tyrion.

Trumpets signaled the arrival of the King and Robert Baratheon entered, flanked by Lord Lannister and Lord Stark to take their places as judges.

It was then the turn of the accused. More so than even for the King himself, the audience in the hall stood up on their tip toes to see Jory march Tyrion in handcuffs down the hall and into the dock.

Septa Mordane began with a prayer, asking the Father Above to guide them to justice, there were a few grumbles around Jon from northerners who had been named before heart trees. They said no man could tell a lie before a heart tree and northern trials were normally carried out in Godswoods but this was a southern trial with a southern victim and a southern accused.

When the septa was done, Lord Stark leaned forward to ask "Tyrion, did you kill the Princess Myrcella?"

"No" came Tyrion's reply immediately.

"Did you poison Prince Joffrey's cup in an attempt to murder the Crown Prince?"

"No"

"Do you name another as the culprit, then?"

Tyrion shrugged "I know no culprit. Maybe she choked on her goose pie?"

The King reddened "You would blame the bakers?"

"Them, or the geese. Just leave me out of it." Jon heard some nervous laughter and he glared at those responsible. An innocent girl was dead and Tyrion seemed completely unwilling to properly defend himself.

Maybe he had given up. Maybe he felt guilty. Across the room Sansa seemed to wilt at her husband's careless attitude.

"Well, that was quick, do you think we can go home now?" Someone near Jon whispered to muffled laughter.

"There are witnesses against you" Lord Tywin said "We shall hear them first. Then you may present your own witnesses. You are to speak only with our leave."

There was naught that Tyrion could do but nod.

The first witnessed summoned was Ser Arys Oakheart of the Kingsguard. After he had been sworn to speak only the truth he spoke well of Tyrion and for a moment Jon was hopeful.

That was until Arys continued "He did strike the prince, that's so. It was a fit of wroth, I believe he thought that Joffrey was hurting Prince Tommen but the boys were just playing as brothers are wont to do."

"In the days of the Targaryens, a man who struck one of royal blood would lose the hand he struck him with," observed Lord Tywin. "Did the dwarf regrow his little hand, or did you White Swords forget your duty?"

Oakheart shuffled awkwardly on the stand "It seemed a family matter my lord. I was attending Prince Tommen, he was hurt in the playing" He gave a forced laugh "I've had many scrapes from rough-housing with my brothers."

"And so you should, what's the point of an elder brother if he doesn't teach you how to be a man" The King grumbled.

Ser Meryn Trant was more than pleased to expand on Ser Arys' account as he had also been present at the incident, which seemed to have taken place on the Kings Road "He knocked the Prince to the ground and began kicking him. He shouted that it was unjust the boy was allowed to call himself a prince."

"You let that deformed dwarf overpower you" The King snarled at his son from the dias.

"He caught me by…"

"Enough! I'll have no more from you, we're here to get justice for my daughter." Jon wondered if part of the King did not wish that the murderer had been successful in their choice of target.

"Prince Tommen, tell true" Lord Stark called "Did the events on the Kings Road happen as the Kings Guard describe? Did your uncle act out of malice or defence?"

The little prince's eyes widened and his chubby cheeks reddened at being addressed by Lord Stark in front of so many people. He looked at his uncle and then at his brother, his mouth opened but no words came out.

"There is nothing to fear sweetling" The Queen spoke softly but her voice carried throughout the hall as she pressed a hand on her young son's shoulders. "Tell the truth."

His face twisted unhappily "W...we were only p...playing"

Tyrion's shoulders seemed to sag and he leaned back against the dock in defeat.

Ser Meryn went onto relate an incident in the Red Keep just before they had come north “The dwarf said to his grace 'I will hurt you for this. I don’t know how yet, but give me time. A day will come when you think yourself safe and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to joy in your mouth, and you’ll know the debt is paid.'”

"Tell the judges what Joffrey had done, why don't you?" Tyrion burst out from the dock.

Trant looked up at the judges and said calmly "Prince Joffrey had been talking to Lady Sansa."

"He murdered my squire!" Tyrion snarled.

A rumble of murmuring broke out at the accusation.

Joffrey stood "A lie! The squire was killed by another in a hunting accident! He murders my sister then slanders my name!"

"Was the squire's death investigated?" Lord Stark asked.

"A squire's death is immaterial to this trial, we are investigating the murder of Princess Myrcella" Lord Tywin said and the King grumbled in agreement "Whether or not it is true, if my son believed the Prince killed his squire, it gave him motive to poison the chalice." He then glared at said son and said calmly "Tyrion, you are to speak only when we call upon you. Take this for a warning."

Old Lord Rosby came next . He told the tale of the melee ground where he had witnessed Lady Sansa give her favour to Prince Joffrey as her husband could not fight "The Imp seemed incensed by the gesture, he threatened the Prince and after he left, the Imp told his wife that soon they would never see that...excuse me my lords… never see that 'cockroach' again."

Sansa had paled and was clutching at her throat. "Liar!" shouted Tyrion, taking two steps forward only to be pulled back by Jory.

"Shut your mouth!" growled the King "Another word and I'll have you gagged like a common brigand."

Jon could see Tyrion's teeth gnashing and the rage that simmered below the surface but appeared to be able to control himself for the time being. Jon was more concerned about Sansa, he thought he saw where this was going and he would hurt them if she was brought into this.

There were two more witnesses from the Kings Landing who both spoke of words of anger and apparent threats that Tyrion had spoken to Prince Joffrey over the years but, as far as Jon could see, no hard evidence that tied him the poisoning.

That night Jon thought of Sansa, he had heard Lady Stark ask in a disapproving voice if she really had given Prince Joffrey her favour. He thought of Arya, his father and his brothers who would soon go to the backstabbing nest of vipers that was Kings Landing. He felt impotent, useless, what was the point of fighting the Others if he couldn't even protect his family from the perfumed lords and ladies of the south?

Maester Luwin opened the second day of the trial. As he had related to Lord Stark and his sons, he related to the court that he had cut open Princess Myrcella's neck and found no morsel of goose pie nor any other obstacle lodged in the Princess's throat "It was poison that killed her your grace. I'm afraid that is the only plausible explanation for the manner of her death."

"What type of poison caused the death?" Lord Stark asked.

"I cannot say. I studied poisons at the citadel but it would be arrogant to call myself an expert" Maester Luwin said "I know of three poisons that can choke a person's breath but there may be more."

"The Strangler was found in the accused chambers, is this one of those three poisons?" Lord Tywin asked.

Luwin nodded "It is, but as I said it is impossible to know of this was the poison that took the life of the Princess."

There were no outbursts from Tyrion for this, it was the most damming piece of evidence so far. Maybe he had learnt to be silent or maybe he recognised that few would believe Luwin of lies.

After Luwin came an endless and wearisome procession of lords, ladies and knights. They all had something to say, all of which seemed to incriminate Tyrion, how he had threatened the prince, how he had filled the prince's chalice while one even swore he'd seen the dwarf drop something into the wine.

The worst of it was to come on the third day, however, when Prince Joffrey took the stand. Under the disappointed gaze of the King, he kept his tale of supposed 'woe' to a minimum but was clear to articulate the many death threats Tyrion had made and how he too had seen Tyrion put something in his chalice.

"And yet you remained silent and allowed your sister to die?" The King growled.

"I did not know it was poison" The Prince said with a practiced innocence that would have fooled Jon if he had known nothing of Joffrey's true character "He is my mother's brother, for her sake I could not believe that the Imp would truly be so cruel and twisted to follow through on his threats. I shall pray for mercy every day that I did not take them more seriously."

Jon's father looked at Prince Joffrey, not just as a witness but as a boy that might marry his daughter "You say that Tyrion has threatened you for years but his squire was killed not three moons ago. What reason would he have for threatening you before then?" he asked coolly.

Prince Joffrey bent his head and paused in a show of apparent reluctance "I believe it was because of Lady Sansa my lord."

Jon became more alert.

"Sansa?" repeated Lord Stark.

"When my aunt and uncle first arrived in Kings Landing, my aunt seemed to like me...more than she liked my uncle."

"No" Jon heard Sansa gasped but no-one else seemed to hear her.

There was a whisper of murmurs that broke out amongst the spectators. They could just see it, a beautiful young girl forced to wed the ugly deformed dwarf and falling for his dashing princely nephew instead.

Jon's blood began to boil.

"I did my best to deter her but whatever I did, she carried on flirting with me, even so far as to push her favour on me before the melee" Joffrey said with all the air of a reluctant confession "You have to understand that nothing ever happened. I would never dishonour Lady Sansa or any lady but my uncle seemed to anger anyway."

Few were looking at the prince now, instead hundreds of eyes bared down on Sansa. Jon wondered if there were not scores of bodies between them, whether he would stride towards the prince and cut him down in front of one and all.

"Have you no shame" hissed Tyrion from the dock "You harassed my wife and…"

"Your wife harassed me because you are such a disappointment as a husband" Joffrey sneered "In return you tried to kill me."

"No, you are cruel and stupid, but I did not poison your chalice. Have my head off if you like, I had no hand in Myrcella's death."

"Silence! You have been told thrice. The next time, you shall be gagged and chained." called Lord Tywin

"What evidence do you have of this accusation against my daughter?" Lord Stark asked, with ice in his voice.

"Prince Joffrey has sworn to tell the truth" The Queen replied cuttingly "What proof do you have that he lies?"

"Enough Lady Sansa's maid will speak next, she will tell us what's true." The King declared.

Kitty took the stand next and if she truly was Tywin's creature then Tyrion was doomed and Jon's anger began to be replaced by fear for Sansa. She told tales of Sansa weeping every night at being made to marry the Imp, of confiding how she could not stand to touch him and that after five years the marriage had still not been consummated.

_She was a child when they wed, what else was to be expected!_

Kitty talked of how Sansa had swooned when she met Ser Loras Tyrell at the Highgarden wedding, how she had pressed and kept a red rose that he had given her. How Sansa had been even more taken with Prince Joffrey, composing sonnets for him, twirling her hair and wishing that she could be married at him instead.

"His grace did his best to repel her while preserving my lady's dignity but I'm afraid to say that Lady Sansa had become indecorous by nature. She continued to flirt with the Prince, many a time, cornering him in darkened corridors. When Lord Arryn's cousin Ser Harrold Hardyng came to the capital, she took a shine to him too and gave him her favour for the King's name day tourney. She appeared to want the affections of both men."

"Neither of which were her husband" Lord Tywin commented.

"Indeed" Kitty nodded.

Sansa was so pale now that Jon was surprised she was still upright. He wanted to hold her.

Jon dreaded what would happen next, she would be the last to take the stand and he feared she would be torn for shreds. Whatever else, Sansa had always taken pride in being a perfect lady and Kitty had painted her as wilful slattern.

She was careful though, Kitty implied dishonour but she never actually confirmed it and so there were no accusations of adultery that Sansa could fight and defend herself against. There was nothing firm to push against and so Lord Stark and Jon were forced to grind their teeth into dust rather than shouting down the maid's testimony.

"I watched my lord become more and more frustrated, more and more jealous. He could not put Sansa aside for no man had touched her but he was desperate to have her to himself. I watched as Tyrion shouted at her, hit her for her behaviour, I heard as he vowed that Sansa was his and no other man would ever have her."

"Lies!" Tyrion snarled and Jon was greedy to join him. "You lie about me, you lie about Sansa, you despicable little…"

"You have been warned! Guards!" ordered Lord Tywin "Gag the accused."

Jory looked to Lord Stark, uncertain if to follow the order.

"No! Enough! There will be no more of this monstrosity. I wish to confess." Tyrion snarled.

"You confess?"

"Yes father I'm guilty, is that what you want to hear, I am guilty." and for a moment it seemed as if the two men were not conscious of any other in the room.

"Then you are guilty of killing the Princess Myrcella?" Lord Stark asked.

Tyrion shook his head and laughed darkly "No, of that I am innocent. I am guilty of a far more monstrous crime. I am guilty of being a dwarf."

"You are not on trial for being a dwarf." Lord Tywin answered coolly.

"Yes I am, I've been on trial for that my entire life" Tyrion said, continuing to address his father more than the King.

Lord Stark asked "Have you nothing to say in your defence?"

"Nothing but this, I did not do it. I did not kill Myrcella, she was a sweet and innocent girl and I would never do anything to harm her." His voice raised "I did not attempt to kill Joffrey even though many times I wish I had. He is a vicious bastard and not fit to wear the crown."

Gasps echoed throughout the room. Joffrey stood "Cut him down" He screeched.

"I wish I could find the real murderer and slay them for their incompetence. Were there any true justice in the world Joffrey would be dead and Myrcella would sit as Crown Princess. I would gladly give my life for such a cause."

There were jeers from the spectators now and the Kings Guard moved forward, uncertain whether to obey the Prince's order while Jory and his men moved round Jon's good brother, looking to their Lord for instruction.

"Captain Cassel, escort the prisoner back to his cell." Lord Stark ordered.

Before they could move however Tyrion said "I will not give my life for Joffrey's lies and I know I'll get no justice here so I will let the gods decide my fate. I demand a trial by combat."

* * *

Later that evening, not caring about the possibility of watching eyes, Jon went to Sansa's rooms. There was no answer but Jon heard her soft weeping inside. He called her name and pushed at the handle but it was locked. Jon called again but was once again greeted with nothing but quiet sobs.

He slept little that night and as early as was decent the next morning, paid a visit to the Lord of Casterly Rock.

As early as it was, Lord Tywin was awake and writing at his desk and a servant was taking away an empty breakfast plate when Jon was admitted entry. Jon looked around the chambers, someone had been kicked out of their rooms to house Lord Tywin but they didn't seem to be too important. Jon was pleased to see that the rooms were quite small.

"You are Stark's bastard?" Lannister didn't look up from his parchment. He did not look like a man whose granddaughter had been murdered and whose son was almost certainly going to be executed.

Jon nodded "Yes, I don't know if you received my raven but…"

"I did" The lord held out his hand expectantly.

With great reluctance, Jon withdrew Longclaw from it's sheath and placed it in Lord Tywin's outstretched hands. Since he had arrived in Winterfell, Jon had only seen censure and boredom in Lannister's eyes, now there was a trace of something more...satisfaction. He traced his fingers over the markings and rippled patters of the Valyrian steel with reverence. The Lannisters had once had their own Valyrian steel sword 'Brightroar' but it had been lost centuries ago.

"The sword once belonged to House Mormont." It was more of a statement than a question.

Jon nodded again "Lord Jeor Mormont gifted me the sword in return for saving his life."

Lannister snorted lightly, as though to show that he did not believe the life of an old man at the Wall to be worth a blade of Valyrian steel. After he'd measured the balance of Longclaw, he stood up from behind the desk and moved into the centre of the room and made various swishing movements. Then he took a chair from the corner of the room and brought down Longclaw over it, cutting it cleanly in half as though the wood were made of butter. Jon winced at the casual destruction of his father's furniture.

Lord Tywin nodded with satisfaction and returned the sword to Jon. He sat back at his desk "How much do you want for it?"

"The Tyrells have offered me one hundred and fifty thousand gold dragons."

"I will pay double if you agree to the sale now. No running back to Highgarden for a better price."

 _Three hundred thousand._ Jon tried very hard not to show how effected he was by the idea of such a sum. _We would be able to arm the entire wildling army with dragonglass, all in exchange for one sword._

"I actually have an alternative offer."

Lord Tywin's eyebrows rose in measured surprise "Oh"

"I will demand no coin for the sword, in return I ask that should Tyrion lose his trial by combat, Sansa is allowed to remain at Winterfell. That you relinquish any claim of guardianship over her to Lord and Lady Stark."

Mance would kill him. Sam, Maester Aemon and the rest would kill him.

Lord Tywin looked him over carefully and Jon suspected he was no longer just another nameless bastard to the Lord of Casterly Rock. "Lady Sansa carries the Lannister name. Do you think I value my name at just three hundred thousand dragons? Do you think I put any price on the name of my father and his father before him?"

Jon swallowed "I know it is unorthodox but…"

"The benefits of a Valyrian steel sword are not worth the ridicule my house would suffer if Lady Lannister were to continue act as though she were not a _Lannister_. She has already brought enough shame to my house, I will not allow her to bring any more."

Jon's fists gripped tightly by his side, it was all he could do not to strike the man.

"Besides three hundred thousand no where begins to repay the debt your father owes me. Repay that debt Snow and then we can talk" He finished "I shall pay double what the Tyrells have offered you for the sword, no more. Take it or leave it."

Jon swallowed down the curses he wished to make "I'll take it."

Lannister nodded and started to write again "A wise choice. I'll arrange for the gold to be delivered to the North, you may keep the sword until then."

How very generous of him, to pretend he already owned the sword and let Jon hold on to it out of the goodness of his heart.

"Very well" Jon agreed, he then paused before saying "You should know that I plan to declare myself as Tyrion's champion."

Lord Tywin's quill stilled.

Jon continued "It would seem quite fitting that the future sword of Casterly Rock be used to defend it's heir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up we'll see Sansa finds out about Jon's decision, more blood is spilled at Winterfell and there is significant Jonsa interaction.
> 
> Thank you for all your lovely feedback, please let me know what you think of this chapter and the story so far - all criticism welcome.


	15. The snow was stained dark red

**Sansa**

She had watched the trial unfurl in a kind of daze, a nightmare that didn't seem to be real. She wanted to run away, to burst into tears, to counter the lies, she wanted to yell and scream at Tyrion to stop talking.

But she couldn't do any of that, instead she had to sit poised like an ice sculpture and keep her face as still and empty as Qaartheen porcelain. She wouldn't give them any more proof that their slanders were true.

Except not all had been lies. She had done worse than flirt, she had lain with Harry, she had broken her vows and now the Seven were punishing her through Tyrion.

_Oh Tyrion._

When the trial was over, Sansa's daze began to lift and her anger towards Tyrion grew. He knew what Ser Jaime had promised to give up to make that deal with Lord Tywin! All he had to do was beg for mercy and Lord Tywin and her father would take care of the rest. Any protest the King had would be outvoted and Tyrion would go to the Wall, his life spared.

As the crowds poured out of the Great Hall, various people began to make their way to Sansa, to try to comfort or confront her. Her mother, Lord Tywin, Ser Jamie, Robb...Jon. Sansa couldn't face any of them and so in the confusion she ran straight to her chambers.

In the darkness and solitude of the room, the reality of what had truly happened sunk in.

Her husband had demanded trial by combat.

The King and Queen's champion was Ser Gregor Clegane.

Tyrion would die.

Tears finally crackled through dry eyelids and she felt herself stumble. She reached out for a wall to steady herself but she couldn't seem to lift her hand and her eyesight darkened. Arms came round her, holding her up and a comforting voice whispered in her ear "Oh my darling, you need rest."

Lady Catelyn supported Sansa to her bed and laid her down gently on the bed softly stroking her hair "Bring us some hot milk with honey" she ordered someone. A servant probably, Sansa hadn't seen them but then she didn't really care about such things.

"I'm sorry sweetling, I'm so sorry." She cradled Sansa's sobbing head into her lap.

"H...he promised, he p...promised he would plead mercy" She clutched to her mother's skirts.

Catelyn Stark gave a long sigh "Men and their pride...I believe it is their greatest weakness."

They sat in silence, Sansa taking comfort in her mothers' presence and the soft, rhythmic stroking of her hair. Catelyn seemed to sense that no words would sooth her now. 

After several moments there was a pecking at the window and Catelyn rose to let in Blueberry. The falcon climbed onto the inside ledge and then fluttered up to her perch where seed and water had been set aside for her.

Her mother returned to the bed, this time with the hot milk and honey. Sansa drank a very little and only at her mother's behest, before she put it aside and rested her head back in her mother's lap.

"Sweetling, forgive me but I have to ask. The things that Joffrey and Kitty said - was there any truth in them?"

Sansa sat up with a start and glared at her mother "No" she said with all the conviction and outrage she could force out. It wasn't true, not in the way they had said it anyway.

"I only ask because I know how unhappy you've been and if anything more serious took place, its understandable…" That was a lie, her mother would never understand the breaking of marriage vows, her treatment of Jon was proof of that "...but your father and I need to know. Lord Tywin…"

"I know what he would do." Sansa said. When she had first arrived at Casterly Rock there had been some effort made to make sure that she knew the story of Tytos Lannister's mistress who had made to walk the streets of Lannisport stripped bare, that she knew what happened to Tyrion's first wife, the poor whore who had been thrown to the Household guard.

Those women had been lowborn but Sansa did not doubt Lord Tywin's ability to come up with some equally horrific but less public punishment that would not reach the ears of her parents.

"I'd like to be alone now." She eventually said.

Her mother nodded, disappointed, and left and Sansa was left alone with her thoughts. With gut wrenching images of the Mountain killing Tyrion and the bleak future that awaited her at Casterly Rock.

She didn't leave for dinner, dreading the looks of disdain or pity, instead she just lay on her bed with tears running sideways down her cheeks. Jon came but she ignored his knocking.

He would be leaving her soon, returning to Castle Black. Everyone left her in the end.

* * *

The next morning, she was awakened to her astonishment by Kitty entering the room, carrying a breakfast tray. Sansa watched the woman, set the tray down by the bed, stoke the fire and let Blueberry out as though it were any ordinary day.

Many a time, Sansa had wished for Blueberry's wings but now a part of her wished for the bird's hooked talons and curved puncturing beak.

She waited till Kitty had finished her morning duties and was at the door before saying in a cold voice "Why did you do it? Why did you tell those lies?"

Kitty gave a weary smile and looked at her as though she were a small child "They weren't lies my lady."

"Every word was a lie" Sansa said through gritted teeth "And now Tyrion will die. Are you happy that your devotion to Lord Tywin will lead to the death of another innocent?"

Kitty barely blinked "It was not personal my lady. You _did_ take a fancy to Ser Loras and Prince Joffrey, at least at first and you _did_ flirt with Ser Harrold. I was asked to tell the truth before the Gods and so I did."

Sansa almost laughed "And what of the rest? What of your lies, were they for the gods? Did you spy on me for the Gods as well?" she sneered mockingly.

"No" Kitty answered, as plainly as ever "No, that was for someone else. Was that all my lady?"

"No" Sansa said "Come here."

Kitty walked over to stand by the bedside and Sansa picked up the bowl of porridge and tipped it over her head, watching with satisfaction as the hot milky oats dripped down her freckled face and long yellow hair. She hoped it burned her.

"I need more porridge. Go get me some."

Sansa didn't wait for Kitty to return, instead she got dressed herself and left her chambers.

Winterfell felt like a foreign place to her that morning. The haven of friendliness and warmth after her years in the mocking south was gone and instead servants avoided her eye, lordlings sneered as she passed and she caught more than one Northern lady giggling and whispering with her maids. Leaving her chambers had been a terrible mistake but she needed to find Bronn. Maybe he could still somehow be persuaded.

As she neared Lord Stark's solar she heard shouting was coming from within. She peered round the half open door and saw her father and Jon standing on opposite sides of the room in the middle of what appeared to be a blistering argument.

"You have taken vows, does the Night's Watch mean nothing to you!" Sansa's father was angrier than she had ever seen him and for a moment she felt her arms prickle with fear.

"There is nothing in my vows that stops me from doing this."

"You betray Benjen, you betray every Stark that took the black before you!"

"You told me that this was what men do, they protect their families!" Jon shouted

"And how do you intend to protect your family with your head smashed against the cobblestones!" Lord Stark roared back.

Sansa gasped and both men's heads snapped towards her . Her father's body sagged slightly "Good, maybe you can knock some sense into your fool of a brother."

She stepped into the room nervously "What is going on?"

"Go on, tell her. Tell her what stupid thing you have done!"

Jon looked at Sansa levelly and with no shame he said "I have declared myself as Tyrion's champion."

"No!" She cried in alarm, she rushed at him and pushed at his chest as if trying to knock the notion out of him. "No! You can't do this, I won't let you."

"You see, your sister agrees with me and she is married to the dwarf."

Jon grabbed her wrists to stop her from hitting him "This has to be done" he told her gently "You said yourself that there is no-one else who can protect you in the lion's den."

"You'll be killed."

"I've fought monsters bigger than the Mountain before. I've fought giants and lived to tell the tale."

"And how many of those giants wore armour and swung a great sword?" demanded Lord Stark "How many did you fight in a small enclosed space where you could not run about and wear them out?"

"I'm going to Bronn, I'm going to convince him to be Tyrion's champion so you see there is no need" Sansa said desperately looking up at Jon.

"Bronn will not fight. He's getting old and he wants his castle. I spoke to him during the trial, you won't be able to change his mind." Jon told her.

"You will not throw your life away on this, I won't allow it" Lord Stark declared.

"And yet it is not your decision to make" Jon replied.

* * *

Sansa spent the rest of the day in the Godswood, her tears wouldn't help but maybe her prayers would. She had become beyond crying at this point and she couldn't bear the thought of staying in the castle. She wouldn't listen to men bet on whether Jon would live or die, she wouldn't watch him train, preparing for death and she could not suffer the glares that would come from her brothers and sister because this was all her fault.

She bent her knees in the cold snow and looked up at the face carved on the white bark of heat tree, its horrifying expression frightened her. She gazed up at the broad red leaves that floated in the air, silhouetted against the glare of the winter sun and prayed for the Old Gods to hear her.

_Please let Jon live. None of this is his fault, it is mine, punish me instead. It is not Jon's fault I am a flirt, it is not his fault I sometimes have wicked thoughts. He is all that is good and noble in the world._

_Please do not kill the best man I have ever known._

"Remarkable isn't it?"

Sansa jumped.

It was Jon's wildling singer, Abel. He held up his hands as he approached as if to show that he meant no harm but Sansa still got to her feet and shuffled away from him. Jon had risked his life and betrayed their father to help this man's people and now he was throwing everything away - because of Sansa.

"What's remarkable?" she asked nervously.

"That every tree in the forest is bare apart from the heart tree, it's branches aren't cold and naked but still lush with those red leaves. My Dalla used to say that it was proof that the Old Gods lived in these trees. I say that even a heart tree knows it needs help keeping warm in winter."

Sansa narrowed her eyes, she disliked riddles "Have you come to tell me to change Jon's mind?" she asked, presuming word would be all over the castle by now "I've tried but he won't listen. He's more likely to listen to you." she added bitterly.

Abel laughed and he smirked "I've known Snow long enough to know when his mind is made up, if a chorus of Starks can't change it then I doubt I'll have much luck."

"What do you want then?" Sansa demanded. Tyrion and Jon were soon to die and she wasn't in the mood for northern intrigue.

"Southern ladies are always thinking about what someone else wants instead of what they want." He remarked and his eyes had became somehow more serious as well as somehow kinder "You strike me as someone who feels lonely and helpless, have you ever wondered that if you were less lonely then you might be less helpless?"

Sansa began to think she understood him "Dalla was the name of Mance Rayder's Queen."

The smirk reappeared "Indeed it was."

* * *

Hours later when the light had begun to fade and the air had started to cool, Sansa left the Godswood. Her stomach screamed in hunger, she had eaten little that day but instead of the hall or the kitchens she headed to the training yard where she found Jon, alone and hacking at a straw dummy.

For a moment she almost forgot she was angry and fearful for him and simply admired the clean and precise moves he made in the twilight. He was strong but graceful, beautiful even and her heart filled with love as she thought _he is doing this for me, he is risking his life for me._

 _He will likely die for you_ and the love was replaced with self-loathing.

She strode towards him and coughed to announce her presence. Jon stopped what he was doing and stared at her warily.

"I don't like what you're doing and if you had any care for me whatsoever you would call off this absurd charade."

Jon's eyes softened "It's because I care for you that I have to do this."

"I don't want you to die." Sansa burst out, hating the way her voice broke "It would be the worst thing."

"There are worse things that my death, trust me" Jon said gravely before observing "Everyone seems to have extraordinary poor faith in me as a fighter. You never know, I may actually win."

"Not training like that you won't." Sansa nodded to the straw dummy "The Mountain is not as cumbersome as he appears."

"So I've heard but everyone else has gone inside to eat."

"Not everyone, come on." And she took his hand and led him to the stables. The stalls were quiet but for the occasional grunts and shuffling of the horses. Halfway towards the back sat a hulking great figure with a plate on his lap, eating his dinner, as he did in Kings Landing, with only his horse for company.

"Sansa, what are we doing here?" Jon whispered sceptically as Sansa dragged him forward.

"Sandor!" she called.

The Hound raised an eyebrow at their appearance. He cleared his plate and stood up "The Little Bird and her crow bastard brother come to see me. If I were you, boy, I'd be spending my last hours in a whorehouse, not among the horse dung."

"You seem happy enough in it." Jon remarked coolly.

"I want you to train Jon for the fight tomorrow."

"What?" Jon snorted.

The Hound smirked "I don't imagine Joff and the Queen would like that much, I am the Prince's sworn sword or did you forget?"

"There is no reason for them to know." Sansa said "Hullen and the stable hands have finished for the day. No-one will need their horses tonight, you can spar for hours without notice."

"And why would I do that when I could drink a bottle of ale instead and a nice long sleep."

Sansa scowled at him "Don't pretend you wouldn't take Jon's place if you could. Don't pretend you haven't spent every waking moment of your life thinking about how you would beat your brother. This is your chance for revenge, for everything. It may not be in a manner that is heroic and glorious but its there, so take it."

The Hound swallowed and eventually he nodded "Draw your sword Snow."

* * *

The following morning, Sansa woke at first light and while the keep was still stirring she slipped down to the dungeons.

The dungeons lay in the bowels of the castle and their proximity to Winterfell's natural springs heated the air and left it moist and uncomfortable. There was little light but the flickering torches on the wall that cast long spidery shadows over empty cells.

While most of the dungeons held nothing but ghosts, the walkways were full of guards; gold cloaked Kingsmen, red cloaked Lannister men and the guards of Winterfell in their boiled leather and grey fur cloaks, all watched Sansa as she made her way to Tyrion's cell.

“Have you come to say goodbye?” Tyrion was slumped in the corner of the cell, his clothes shabby and his jaw darkened with unshaved stubble. Bread and pottage lay on a tray nearby, untouched “You will make a very fetching widow. They are seldom so beautiful.”

“Don’t talk like that. Please.” Sansa sat down tentatively after trying to find the cleanest patch of ground.

“Your brother is a good fighter but no match for the Mountain.” Tyrion said, his mouth twisted in a bitter smile “Or have you come to beg me to reject him as my champion. I’m afraid I’m not so generous.”

“I wouldn’t...” Sansa tried to protest.

“Of course you would. You love him more than me, there’s no shame in it. I would choose Jaime’s life over yours, every time.”

Sansa gave a strangled laugh “I doubt he would say the same. He’s furious with you. We both are.”

Tyrion’s eyes fell “Yes, I’ve already heard his thoughts on the matter.”

“All you had to do was plead mercy, you lie all the time. You play and make fools of the rest of us constantly, what was one more time if it saved your life?” Sansa cried.

Tyrion avoided her eye, instead he looked up into the corner of the cell were a spider hung from a flickering thread, it's shadow on the wall made large by the dim torchlight. He spoke emptily “Do you know how long it takes to get here from Casterly Rock? In winter? He must have raced every yard, he must have broken several good horses just to kill me the sooner.”

Sansa had once worried that Tyrion had lost his head over Shae. But Shae was nothing compared to Lord Tywin.

“So you decided to kill yourself to spite your father?”

“You never know, Snow may yet win. He beat Jaime in the melee and he’s younger than Clegane.” Tyrion suggested with light optimism “We could still go to the Free Cities.”

“Drink wines in Volantis and eat Pentoshi cheeses?” Sansa joked.

“But of course. I have enough wits, I’ll set myself up as a merchant and make a fortune sending ships to Qaarth and Asshai.”

“And I’ll give you sons, little lion cubs to inherit your empire and help you take back Casterly Rock.”

Tyrion shuddered with emotion at the image “Someday...” he sniffed “I’m going to cloak you in so many jewels you won’t be able to stand upright.”

Sansa giggled.

“I know I disgust you...”

“You don’t” Sansa said quickly “I didn’t want to marry you and I wouldn’t have chosen you but if it had to be a Lannister then I’m glad it was you.”

Tyrion’s face broke out into what might have been the first genuine smile she had ever seen from him “Likewise, and not because there is a lack of eligible maids in your family.”

Sansa laughed through the tears that had crowded in her eyes. She frantically wiped them away.

“Don’t marry Jaime .”

“Pardon?”

“Don’t marry Jaime.” Tyrion repeated and Sansa was quite sure he had never been so serious about anything in his entire life.

“He is a Kingsguard.”

“If you don’t think my father can’t change that then you haven’t been paying attention." Tyrion said seriously "After all, what is the point of having the King and his Hand in your debt if you can’t get your precious heir back."

Was that this had all been for? The loans to Winterfell and Kings Landing, Sansa as a Lannister bride, was it all just to get Jaime back?

No, surely, Lord Tywin was too fond of power for it to just be about Jaime. No doubt, he felt at ease with the King and Warden of the North beholden to him.

"Do not marry Jaime, _promise me_. Cersei already thinks you had a hand in Myrcella’s death, if you marry Jaime you will be dead before the wedding night.” Tyrion continued “Marry Lancel, my Uncle Kevan is a good man and Lancel will be easy to control.”

Sansa nodded, she didn’t quite understand the strength of Tyrion’s warning but she trusted it.

“Who do you think killed Myrcella? “

“I don’t know, my main regret in dying is I’ll never find out. I’d dearly like to gut the man.” Tyrion said darkly “Don’t trust anyone. There is a war coming, I can smell it and you are the perfect hostage. Trust no one. Winterfell comes first for the wolves, Casterly Rock comes first for the lions but innocent girls have to look out for themselves.”

Was she still innocent though? Tyrion still saw her as a delicate little flower that he wasn’t allowed to touch but she had touched men. Did she flirt with Harry or did he flirt with her? She just knew it felt good, to be wanted by someone like Harry, someone handsome and decent, someone of her own choosing. Maybe she had pursued him, it all felt so long ago she could barely remember.

Reuniting with Jon seemed like a lifetime ago as well. Had she somehow bewitched him, cast some dark spell over her bastard half-brother? Maybe she was the fallen woman they all thought she was? Jon didn't fight for himself or for Tyrion, he fought for her.

He would die for her.

She gave a sudden half strangled sob and tried to cover it up by bringing her hand to cover her face. Tyrion shuffled forwards, dislodging the straws of hay that made his bedding but the chains around his wrists kept him bound to the wall so that he could not reach her.

She had never meant for this to happen. She had just wanted someone to talk to.

Tears streamed down her cheeks again and Sansa frantically wiped them away "I'm sorry, I don't know what...I just…"

Tyrion gave a wan smile "I suppose I should be flattered really. I had wondered if you would be glad to be rid of me."

Sansa shook her head, she couldn't bare to tell him the truth - that she hadn't been crying over him at all.

"How...how much do you trust Jaime?" She eventually stuttered.

Tyrion blinked, confused, but barely less than half a second later answered "With my life."

* * *

"What do you think? Is it too dangerous?" she asked Jon after she had spoken to both the Kingslayer and Abel separately.

"Aye, it's too dangerous, but I don't see we've got much choice in the matter" Jon replied.

They were in a little tent made of plain brown leather that barely fluttered in the weak winter breeze. Outside they could hear the voices of hundreds; lords and ladies, knights and maids, scribes and cooks chattered genially as they took their seats in the melee stand. Sansa wondered what they were talking about. The weather? The prowess of the champions? Were they taking bets? Did they debate whether it would all be over before dinnertime…

Sansa watched Jon fixed the last of his armour to his body, black metallic gloves that would protect his hands, she loved his hands, they were big and rough yet always warm and tender in the way they held her. He'd had a boy helping him earlier but Sansa had dismissed him, wanting to soak up these last few moments with Jon alone. She was suddenly struck by how very beautiful he was, she had known from their reunion that he was handsome but as the sun shone through the tent threads it bathed him in a golden light that made him look almost heavenly.

"I don't want you to do this" she whispered "Please, if you care about me at all, don't go out there."

Jon turned and smiled at her, he was likely going to his death and yet he seemed so calm and assured. "It's because I care about you that I have to do this."

He placed his large hands on her shoulders, stroking the hollow of her neck in a way that made her bones tingle.

"You don't" Sansa argued "You don't care for me at all. You don't care what it will do to me if you die."

She saw the confidence fall away from behind Jon's eyes "Tell me you'll never go back to Kings Landing" he pressed with urgency in his voice "Tell me Lancel or Tommen or Old Tywin or whichever Lannister they marry you to next won't take you to that god awful place. Won't let you near _Joffrey_ again."

"I…"

"You can't"

"But I don't matter" Sansa cried "You don't need to do this, I can survive…"

"I don't want you just to survive!" Jon declared forcefully. He cupped her cheek and caressed her skin and a shiver ran through her. With his other hand, he fingered a strand of red hair and tucked it behind her ear "Don't you get it?" He looked at her, his eyes dark and imploring as he spoke in a softer voice and leaned down to press their foreheads together "You are the only thing...the only thing that _does_ matter."

And then they were kissing. Sansa didn't know if she had started it or Jon, all she knew was that her hands were clawing up his neck and into his wild hair as she pressed herself into him, trying to burrow under his skin. She wanted to be inside this man, this good man, her tongue in his mouth, her fingers under his flesh, she wanted Jon to swallow her whole and keep her with him always in this nature of fire and trust.

"Snow, are you decent?"

They sprang apart like the snapping of a tight thread, panting heavily. Sansa turned to face the back of the tent and tried to control her breathing, rubbing her lips absent mindedly. Strands of hair fell in front of her eyes and she realised that her tight bun had somehow become dislodged under her hairnet so she quickly worked to contain the damage as Jon called out for Robb to enter.

Robb was accompanied by Arya who gave Sansa a cold glare. She had obviously decided, rightly, that this was all Sansa's fault.

"The King has just taken his seat, they want to start" Robb said, his voice was oddly empty and it lacked the swagger that normally accompanied the heir to Winterfell.

"Right" Jon nodded, he avoided Sansa's eye but she saw the way he swallowed. For the first time he looked nervous.

"I'd tell you that you are being a prat but somehow I don’t think it would help much at this stage." Robb said with an affected carelessness.

"Probably not."

"Well I don't care." Arya announced "You are a prat. You're the world's biggest moron for ever agreeing to this and if you die today I'll kill you."

Jon laughed weakly and he hugged Arya "Thank you little sister."

Sansa's stomach lurched.

Arya whispered something else to Jon, something she didn't hear but it made him chuckle more confidently. Robb then wrapped his arms around him and the two brothers clapped one another on the back. Finally Jon stood back and gave a short nod to Sansa "My lady" he said before he left the tent.

It was quite absurd how nice the weather was Sansa thought idly as she, Arya and Robb took their place in the stands. The sky was a brilliant clear forget me not blue, the sun shone brightly and there was barely a breeze. It had snowed in the night and the grounds of Winterfell were covered with a fresh white layer of snow which somehow made everything look cleaner, more innocent. It was as if the Gods had no idea that at least one man would be killed that day.

Or maybe the gods knew and that was why the weather was nice, maybe they really were that cruel.

They sat in a row with Bran and Rickon, both of whom were far more subdued than they had been at the melee although they put on brave faces for which Sansa was proud. The Lannisters would not see them cry. Osha and the babes were nowhere in sight which was a relief. Osha hated her, she hadn't said anything but Sansa could tell. The wildings were going to lose their protector and it was all Sansa's fault. Sansa wanted to defend herself but she couldn't, she was to blame. She felt surprisingly bereft at Osha's new disdain. How peculiar that the woman who she had been most honest with, who had been the closest she had had to a friend in as many years had turned out to be a wildling savage.

"It is not too late to stop this madness." Sansa heard her mother whisper from where her parents sat behind them.

"Jon has made his choice. There is nothing more I can do." Lord Stark replied.

"Nothing more you can do, he is _your_ _son_. You are the Lord of Winterfell!" Catelyn Stark argued heatedly under her breath "Tell the Imp to find his own champion. For the gods' sake this is not Snow's fight."

 _It wasn't,_ Sansa thought as she tuned out her father's response and as she looked around the arena she seemed to be assaulted by the men who should have taken Jon's place.

Bronn the ungrateful blackguard, in his new satin clothes, who liked Tyrion but not more than his own life. He wouldn't marry his lady, Sansa would make sure of it. The Queen may have the ear of Lady Tanda Stokeworth but Sansa had the ear of Lollys and she would tell her friend to marry a kitchen boy over that cut-throat.

Then there was the Kingslayer, who stood uneasy behind the King and Queen at the top of the stands. He wanted to fight and Tyrion would have chosen him as his champion a thousand times before Jon but Jaime's vows forbidded it. Myrcella had been a princess of royal blood and a Kingsguard could not act as champion for her accused murderer. Ser Jaime was lucky that he had not been named as the King and Queen's champion and been forced to fight his brother himself.

Further along, the Hound stood, watchful over the practically salivating Prince Joffrey. Three years ago, at the first tourney Sansa had attended in Kings Landing, the Hound had walked her back to the Red Keep, drunk, and told her the story of how his brother had held his head in the flames. A year later, with even more wine in his veins he told her how the Mountain had killed his father. Sansa had wondered why he told her these things, these terrible secrets that he held close to his heart and defended with a beast's snarl. Maybe he thought that she didn't have anyone to tell.

_"You're just like her. A pretty little bird who sings songs and sews pretty little flowers." He sneered at her nine moons ago, ale on his breath and the sounds of merriment from the Queen's name day feast wafting along a darkened corridor._

_"Just like who?" Sansa asked, she shouldn't like it when he was drunk but she did. He was more honest, he spoke to her more._

_"Elinor, my sister."_

_"You don't have a sister."_

_The Hound's face fell and Sansa's heart broke at the sadness in his eyes "No" he answered gruffly "Gregor saw to that._ "

The Hound could never fight in this trial of combat. His service to Joffrey forbid any consideration of it and in any case Lord Stark would have never tolerated kinslaying to take place at Winterfell. But he deserved it the most. He should be in the arena, not Jon. The Mountain had taken everything from Sandor and his, what had the brute ever done to Jon?

Her eyes fell to the arena where Jon and Tyrion stood on the edge, waiting. She wondered what they talked of and if this was the last time she would see both alive. A hush descended throughout the crowd and Sansa realised that the King had risen from his makeshift throne

Robert Baratheon lifted his hand and a dozen trumpeters blew a fanfare.

Sansa's eyes flitted to the Mountain. In his armour he looked taller than any man had the right to be and dwarfed those around him. Beneath a long yellow surcoat bearing the three black dogs of Clegane, he wore heavy plate over gleaming new chainmail. Beneath that would be boiled leather and a layer of quilting. A flat-topped great helm was bolted to his gorget, with breaths around the mouth and nose and a narrow slit for vision. The crest atop it was a stone fist. He looked as though he was chiseled out of rock, standing there. His greatsword was planted in the ground before him, six feet of scarred metal. Ser Gregor's huge hands, clad in gauntlets of lobstered steel, clasped the crosshilt to either side of the grip.

In comparison Jon looked small, skinny and ragged, his face bore the old scars of eagles and wildlings whilst his armour was thin, dull and dinted by battle. His black leather of the Night's Watch was scuffed, frayed and ill fitting. She wondered what kind of shirt he wore underneath everything. The black silk shirt she had made him was ready, waiting in her chambers but she had never gotten around to giving it to him, always wanting to have a ready made excuse to visit him just in case.

_Please don't die._

Ser Osmund Kettleblack brought Clegane his shield, a massive thing of heavy oak rimmed in black iron. As the Mountain slid his left arm through the straps, Sansa saw that the hounds of Clegane had been painted over. That morning Ser Gregor bore the seven-pointed star the Andals had brought to Westeros when they crossed the narrow sea to overwhelm the First Men and their gods. How dare he, Sansa thought angrily, how dare this murderer claim he fought in the name of the gods.

The septon spoke some words and the trial begun

There were fifty yards between them. Jon advanced quickly, Ser Gregor more ominously. _The ground does not shake when he walks,_ Sansa told herself. _That is only my heart fluttering._

Jon's sword stabbed but the Mountain took the point on his shield, shoved it aside and bulled it back at him, his great sword flashing. Jon darted away untouched and thrust Longclaw forward once more. Clegane slashed at it but Jon snapped it back and thrust again. Metal screamed on mental as Longclaw's tip slid off the Mountain's chest, slicing through the surcoat and leaving a long bright scratch on the steel beneath.

Jon landed a quick thrust on the Mountain's belly, to no effect. Gregor cut at him, and missed. Sansa gasped and clutched and Robb's arm next to her.

"The Mountain has twenty years on Jon, our brother will outrun him" Robb whispered reassuringly.

It went on that way for what seemed like a long time. Back and forth they moved across the arena, and round and round in spirals. Clegane slashing at the air whilst Jon kept circling, jabbing then darting back again, forcing the bigger man to turn and turn again. Clegane seemed to keep losing sight of him, his helm had a narrow eyeslit that severely limited his vision and Jon was making good use of that, of his slowness, of his size.

The Mountain made a big target at least and Jon landed many blows but none of them deliberate enough to penetrate his heavy plate. But he struck at arm, and leg, twice at his temple and Ser Gregor's big wooden shield took its share of hits as well, until a dog's head peeped out from under the star, and elsewhere the raw oak showed through. Every other jab drew blood, and scarlet drops dripped from the Mountain's knee, his thigh, his arms, yet none were deep enough to fell him. Clegane would grunt from time to time, and once Sansa heard him mutter a curse, but otherwise he and Jon fought in a sullen silence.

Both men seemed to be getting impatient, Jon didn't seem to be stepping back quite as far from every thrust forward and the Mountain grunted louder with the effort it took him to swing his great sword round faster. Their swords rang as they met, once, twice, a third time. Sansa clutched Robb's arm harder, likely hurting him but this time there were no reassuring words. 

All around the yard, the throng of spectators was creeping in toward the two combatants, edging forward inch by inch to get a better view. The Stark guards tried to keep them back, shoving at the gawkers forcefully with their big grey shields, but there were hundreds of gawkers and only two dozen of the men with the Stark direwolf painted on the corner on their armour.

There was a ringing clash of steel on steel. The Mountain came hard, stampeding hard and swinging sword and shield, Jon scrambled away but this time he was not fast enough. Clegane bared down on him, raising his sword and plunged it, only for it to be met by the razor blade of Longclaw. The swords held together in a fierce deadlock, but the Mountain was stronger and as he pressed down Jon began to buckle as the crossed swords edged ever closer to his face.

Suddenly Jon's leg darted out, kicking the Mountain in the knee. Clegane jolted, falling forward as Jon used the moment to roll away. Now the Mountain was on the ground and Jon was scrambling up, dirty and panting.

"Enough!" He grunted, kicking the Mountain's sword away to the other side of the arena.

Sansa breathed ever more quickly, spectators were screaming and shouting, telling the Mountain to get up, telling Jon to finish him off.

Jon brought Longclaw down intent on plunging it the gap between the Mountain's breastplate and helmet but Clegane was not yet spent. He rolled over onto his back and caught Jon's swords in his fists delaying its descent. Jon pressed the sword down harder, putting his whole body weight into the effort as he stood on the Mountain's chest. Blood streamed out through the Mountain's fingers and he yelled in agony as Longclaw's tip finally pierced his flesh driving deeper and deeper.

Would it be enough? Sansa didn't know enough about fighting to know if Jon had dealt a fatal blow. It was just to the left of the sternum, could it be just a flesh wound of the shoulder? The snow beneath them was stained dark red and the Mountain must have been bleeding even more inside his breastplate. There was a soft thud as Longclaw finally sunk all the way through the Mountain's body yet still he tried to rise.

Clegane let go of the sword. _Finally, die!_ But suddenly the Mountain's hand shot up and grabbed Jon round the neck, crushing his throat in his rock like claws. Sansa heard herself whimper and Arya shout "No!"

Jon's face grew red, then purple then pale as the Mountain's grip relaxed, the last of his energy gone and his tree trunk like arm fell down, bringing Jon down with it into a wintery bed of snow with a soft dull thud.

Both men laid prone, neither making a groan nor a motion.

There was not a sound in the stands for a several long moments, then murmurs began to break out. Slowly Jory Cassel crept forward into the arena, and checked the champions, both as still as corpses.

"Your grace, my lord" He called up to the King and Lord Stark "They both still breathe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a draw? Sort of...except I don't think there really can be draws in trials by combat? In the next chapter there will be plots and goodbyes.
> 
> Thank you for all your feedback so far, it is much appreciated. Please let me know what you think of this chapter and the story so far (all criticism welcome)


	16. Heavy bells ringing out doleful knells

**Sansa**

_CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!_

The bells rang out across Winterfell, their loud ringing seemed to rattle through the very stonework of the walls, unsettling the almost pitch black air about them with a tense thrum.

"We should go back" grumbled The Hound behind her.

The loud clinking of breastplate on chainmail suddenly rushed past them and Sansa grabbed the muscular wrist behind her instinctively. The sound was coming from the other side of the wall.

"That's not for us" she murmured as it became quiet again and all that could be heard was a scuttling of insects on the dusty stone floor and the heavy breathing of the Hound.

"You're like a vulture, little bird, you bring death" her companion grumbled.

"I know"

Lady. Podrick. Lord Arryn. Myrcella. And now Jon.

"That's not…" he started to sigh but Sansa didn't care what he had meant to say and she moved quicker along the passage way, leaving him to hurry to catch-up.

Winterfell, and other castles like it, had hundreds of these secret tunnels and passages built for the servants to scurry about out of sight, shielding vistas of dirty dishes and smelly chamber pots from lords on their morning stroll. Most were still used by the servants of Winterfell but some had become redundant as the geography of the castle changed and over time they fell out of memory.

Jeyne and Sansa had discovered this passage when they were children. The girls couldn't run as fast as Arya or the boys but they knew how to hide so those beastly children wouldn't mess up their hair or step on their dresses during games of 'Dead Man Walking' or 'Monsters and Maidens'.

The passage still looked lost, it was unlit, coated in dust and nary a guard was in sight. Sansa's torch fell on the end of the passageway where the back of a large tapestry hung over the concealed door to the entrance. She pressed her ear against it and heard nothing but one set of heavy breathing. She reached out a trembling hand but the Hound pushed in front of her "Let me, little bird." He unsheathed a sharp dagger with one hand and pulled open the concealed door with the other.

The bedchamber beyond was empty but for the bull size creature in the bed that groaned stuttered strangled breaths. Maester Luwin had said that despite all his aid, it was unknown if Jon or the Mountain would to survive the night, it was for the Gods to decide.

Well Sansa didn't trust the Gods and she didn't trust the Baratheons or Lannisters either.

Her distrust was not isolated. The men had been placed in separate bedchambers which were both under heavy guard by Baratheon, Stark and Lannister alike.

"It's too easy" growled the Hound, looking around suspiciously "As though your father planned it."

Did Lord Stark know about this passage? Had he planned for the murder of the beast who had butchered the Targaryen babes and sent Jon into the arms of the Stranger? Sansa remembered Jon's words ' _Father's way is the old way, the Stark way…'_

"No, he wouldn't" she whispered "He's too honourable to kill a man on his sickbed."

Sandor snorted "Lucky for us both that I've no time for honour." He marched to the bedside and stared down at his brother's unconscious face with contempt, Sansa wondered if the brothers had been physically as close since they were boys and Gregor had pressed Sandor's face into the hot embers of the burning fireplace. Sansa stood far from the bed but she could still see the brutal boulder sized head of the eldest Clegane brother and the bound and bloodied wound from where Jon had pierced him with Longclaw.

This was kinslaying.

_I have already kissed my brother and betrayed my father today. The Gods have already condemned me. What is one more sin?_

"Get on with it" She whispered, hugging her chest. She hated the Mountain and wanted him dead but she felt no joy at prolonging the moment.

"I wish he was awake, I want him to know who killed him and why." The Hound said, his stare burned down into the sallow skin of his tormentor.

"If you could kill him when he was awake then you would have done so years ago." Sansa replied unkindly.

The Hound growled at her but he didn't respond, instead he snatched a pillow from the bed and smashed it over his brother's head, pressing down hard. It was awful, the arms and legs spasmed and even when Sansa closed her eyes she could still hear the strangled desperate gasps of Ser Gregor as he choked.

It seemed to go on for hours, the rustle of the bedclothes and the mush of pillow on flesh...the last dying breaths. Then it was over and Sansa heard no more.

She opened her eyes to see pain and weariness reflected back at her in the Hound's mean grey eyes which in the darkness appeared to be covered by a wet sheen. His whole body seemed to sag with fatigue rather than relief "Thank you" he whispered.

Sansa could not think of any words to respond to such a sentiment.

_CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!_

The bells clanged anew and they heard the more sounds of boots on stone. "Come on" The Hound said ushering her back into the hidden passage way.

**Bran**

The bells rang all night.

Bran lay shivering in his bed as they clanged all over Winterfell. He shut his eyes tightly and told himself it was another jape by squires and stable boys but in truth he feared what they meant - that Jon was dead. Yet after the cock crowed and the sun rose the whispers that flowed round the castle were of a different sort. It was Gregor Clegane who had died in the night, not Jon, but the bells were not for him.

Instead the bells rang for dead guards, a iron gate swinging open to reveal a dark empty cell and a prisoner whisked from Winterfell.

Tyrion Lannister had escaped.

Scores of guards had been sent out in a hundred directions, to comb the Wolfswood, to scour the moors, to ransack the surrounding villages and head to the ports; Barrowton to the west and White Harbor to the east.

"The Imp will be brought back in chains before noon." Theon declared at breakfast, which took place in a far emptier hall. It was not just the guards that had gone, many of the second sons, knights and hedge knights that had come for the tourney had quickly left in search of Bran's goodbrother and the handsome reward money offered by the King on his capture.

"I don't understand" Rickon said once they were alone at the breakfast table, the others having left. The two younger boys often seemed to be alone these days; Mother always had a hundred and one things to do, Robb and Theon were helping Father with the hunt for Tyrion while their sisters attended Jon at his bedside. Bran was too scared to visit Jon, he didn't want to see his brave older brother lying there broken, in the arms of the Stranger.

"What don't you understand?" Bran sighed.

"The Mountain is dead, Jon killed him. Doesn't that mean that the Gods have decided in the Imp's favour, why are they hunting him?"

"Jon might still die" Bran said as gently as he could, hating the way Rickon's face crumpled at the words. Of course his little brother had believed that Jon would be ok now. Jon had defeated the great monster, in the world of songs he should now be safe. But life was not a song, Bran had learnt that five years ago when his father had escorted a crying Sansa from Winterfell, when in return his mother had demanded Jon take the black.

He had learnt that a fortnight ago when beautiful Princess Myrcella had choked to death right in front of him.

"If Jon does….die, then I think there has to be another trial. If he doesn't...I don't know what happens."

"That means the Imp is innocent" Rickon supplied.

"Maybe" Somehow he didn't think it would be so simple. Bran's eyes drifted to Prince Joffrey at the other end of the hall, the prince's face was furious and cruel, there were rumours he had thrown a vase at his squire on hearing the news of Tyrion Lannister's escape. Bran had caught sight of the boy on his way to breakfast and seen small plastered cuts on his face.

He didn't like the idea of Arya marrying him.

After they ate Ser Rodrik Cassel came to fetch them for sparring practice in the yard. It seemed absurd that life could continue in such a mundane way after everything that had happened. He had grown used to Jon, Robb and Theon joining them for practice and the yard seemed empty without them. Bran even missed soft Prince Tommen whom it was rumoured the Queen wouldn't let out of the Guest House.

As Bran parried with one of the younger Cerwyn boys he thought of Princess Myrcella and he felt an ache in his chest. He remembered how pretty she had been with her lovely golden ringlets and beautiful green eyes that sparkled like emeralds. And she wasn't just pretty on the outside, the Queen was elegant but there was a nastiness in her air while Myrcella had been beautiful inside and out, she was creative and clever and kind to lord and servant alike. Bran missed her. He knew that she had liked Robb best, everyone liked Robb best, but every now and then he had dared to dream that _he_ would be the one betrothed to the Princess. After all they were much closer in age and he was sure he liked her better than Robb.

It annoyed him that she had barely been dead a few days before everyone seemed to forget about her. The trial had been all about Prince Joffrey, Tyrion Lannister and Sansa and then the talk had turned to Jon and the Mountain. Even Myrcella's murder hadn't been about her, the killer had been after Joffrey.

After they finished training Bran knew he should follow Rickon and visit Jon. He also wanted to find Rosamund Lannister and see how she was after the death of her friend but he couldn't bare to do that either. He felt restless, useless. He trained in the yard every damned day but still he couldn't protect Jon or Myrcella.

Instead he headed for the Broken Tower, he didn't climb as much as when he was a little boy, (it now somehow felt like a childish pursuit in the presence of Princes and Princesses) but he wanted the freshness of mind that came from climbing up into the sky. It had moons since he had climbed the Broken Tower and this might been his last chance.

He felt lost, Winterfell had been the only home he had ever known and whilst he had once been excited about going south with the King, now he felt scared. He did not want to leave behind his mother, even for a time, and who knew how long it would be before he saw Robb or Theon again...or Jon, he may never see his bastard brother again even if he lived. Then there were the others, and Bran tried not cry as he thought about how he would miss Maester Luwin, little Dallan, Osha, Old Nan and even Hodor.

He instructed Summer to wait patiently at the First Keep whilst he scrambled up its walls. Once he was on the rooftop he could see much of Winterfell at a glance, a grey stone labyrinth of walls and towers and courtyards and tunnels spreading out in all directions. He liked the way it looked, spread out beneath him, only birds wheeling over his head while all the life of the castle went on below. He wondered what Princess Myrcella would have said if he'd dared to bring her up here, he was sure she would have been excited by it. From the roof of the First Keep, Bran moved, with practiced ease from gargoyle to gargoyle before leaping out to land like a squirrel on a jutted out edge halfway up the Broken Tower. From there he scrambled up the old stones, amongst the ivy, towards the slated spire from where he would be able to see for hundreds of miles around.

"I do not like it" A woman's voice sounded from the window to the right of Bran. The words startled him so much that he almost lost his grip, there was no reason for someone to be in the tower, it had been abandoned for centuries "It's too convenient that our brother should escape on the night of Ser Gregor's death."

"If you suspect foul play then may I suggest you look no further than Jon Snow. I have a feeling that his plunging a Valyrian steel sword into the Mountain's chest may have had something to do with his death."

There was the sound of a slap against leather "Our daughter is dead and you make jokes about the murder of her champion."

Bran hung where he was, listening, unable to move.

"He died of his wounds woman, that is clear for all to see" The man's voice was less jovial "And stop calling her that, she was not mine, you saw to that."

"I was trying to protect her you fool. Which is more than I can say for you? You should have championed for her, you weak pitiful man."

Bran studied the stone face below, he could scramble down but it would mean dislodging loose stone, making noise and attracting the attention of those in the Broken Tower.

There was the sound of more scuffling and the sound of the man's low growl "Even if Lord Stark permitted kinslaying on his lands, I am not as cruel as you as to send our brother to death."

"Heartless beast, he murdered my precious girl."

"You don't believe that anymore than I do."

"I know he did it. Father's men will bring him back before the sun sets and I will watch with gladness in my heart as Ilyn Payne takes his head." The woman said with cold delight.

There was more scuffling, the sound of cloth being ripped and heavy breathing "You're a hateful woman. Why have the gods made me love a hateful woman?"

Bran crept his ledge and peered in the window. Two beautiful golden haired people were locked in a fierce embrace. The man had the woman's hair grabbed his fist, he was kissing her throat angrily as he shoved up her skirts. The woman was red faced with her eyes closed, her face in a tortured expression of ecstasy as she clawed and ripped open his clothes revealing his naked back beneath.

"Promise me you didn't help Tyrion escape" The Queen panted forcing the man's face up so she could kiss him deeply. "Promise me."

"I...I swear" Her brother the Kingslayer declared against her lips as he tore open her dress to reveal her corset beneath.

Quickly before they noticed him, Bran pulled his head back so he was hidden once more. Trembling all over, he scrambled down the tower as fast as he had ever climbed before and frightened to his very core, the image of the Queen and her brother etched in his mind.

**Sansa**

It had been three days since Tyrion had escaped Winterfell, since she and the Hound had conspired to kill Ser Gregor and still the Kingsmen had not found her husband.

And, still Jon slept.

Sansa woke up and went to bed with fear in her heart, in her dreams different faces came to her telling her that Jon had died in the night. Every time someone opened a door she believed they had come to announce the capture of Tyrion and his accomplice on the moors. That they came to drag her off for the wicked things she had done.

_"I've escaped Lord Stark 's best men for years now. Don't fear girl, no southerner can track me down in these lands during winter."_

But she did fear, constantly. She prayed, trying to atone for her sins, for the wretched things she had done that had placed Tyrion and Jon in such danger. For the wretched things done to try and get them out of danger.

Maester Luwin said that now he had lasted the first night, the worst was over but still Jon did not wake. He lay in his bed, with eyes closed echoing shallow breaths that sounded as though they hurt to inhale. His beautiful face had been bloodied and bruised by the Mountain, a great bandage was wrapped around his neck, its white colour contrasting horribly against the purple bruised skin at its frayed edges. It was where the Mountain had crushed his neck before flinging him to the ground, Luwin said that had the snow not been there to cushion his fall Jon would have died instantly.

Maybe that would have been a blessing Sansa heard some whisper, when a man was suffocated, when he injured his head, he didn't always wake up the same. Sometimes he woke up wrong, dumb and helpless like a babe. Sansa didn't care if Jon woke up like Hodor, she just wanted him alive and here with her.

She spent much of her waking hours at his bedside, helping Luwin and the maids tend to his wounds or massage his throat so they could try to force feed him soft mashed apple or lukewarm porridge. It was difficult, almost impossible work and after just three days Jon's face had grown gaunter and Sansa feared that if his injuries did not kill him, starvation would.

She was accompanied in her vigil by Arya. Neither girl spoke to one another, Sansa knew Arya hated her for what had happened. There were other visitors, Rickon and Osha visited for a few minutes every morning and Robb came for an hour every evening to tell Jon about his day. He told stupid jokes which he seemed to hope would irritate Jon into waking. Their father came at the end of the day, for several minutes he would watch Jon forlornly with a broken face before ushering the girls both to bed. There were others as well who paid their respects, Theon, the Pooles, Ser Rodrik, Jory and Sonya, even Rosamund Lannister escaped the clutches of her Septa to say how sorry she was for Sansa and Arya and that she hoped Jon didn't die.

But for the most part the girls were left alone in silence, with nothing but Jon's pained breathing for company. Sansa wished her sister wasn't there, she wanted to be alone with Jon, to tell him things, to say sorry before it was too late.

There was a knock at the door and Sansa almost jumped in her seat. It was Ser Addam Marbrand, one of her goodfather's men "My lady, we are to leave soon."

Sansa nodded "I will be with you shortly" and as Marbrand left Sansa tried to work out how long she could linger before Lord Tywin came to drag her away himself. She wanted cling to every second she could in Jon's presence.

"What will happen to you now?" Arya suddenly asked and this time Sansa really did startle. She didn't know whether she was more surprised that Arya had actually spoken to her after all this time or of the question she had asked. It would have never occurred to her that Arya would be interested. "Everyone says you're going to marry Lancel Lannister."

Tyrion seemed to think his father would try to wed her to the Kingslayer, Jon had feared that the Old Lion might try to wed her himself. Each prospect seemed as unreal and terrifying as the next.

"I can't marry anyone whilst Tyrion lives" Sansa explained. He would get away, she was sure he would, she prayed that he would.

Arya snorted "The Lannisters don't care, the King doesn't care. Rules mean nothing to them. Jon won the trial by combat and still they hunt the Imp like he's a dog. They'll marry you off to some golden headed fop because that's all girls are good for."

Sansa stared at her sister in consternation " _Arya…_ "

"I don't want to marry Prince Joffrey" Her sister burst out, as though she had been trying to hold it back for days now "He's a pompous prick, I hate him. He's upset Jon's not dead. He doesn't even care about Myrcella and she was his own sister. He says things about you and the North…I thought it was ok...I was angry...but it's not and I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him!"

"Shh, shhh" Sansa dragged her chair closer to her sister and softly stroked her hair "Lower your voice, the walls have ears."

"I'm such an idiot, I thought he liked me but he doesn't. I don't even want to get married anyway, wearing pretty dresses, organising feasts? That's not me." Arya spat in disgust "I was just...flattered and now it's all gone wrong. I should have listened to you. I'm such an idiot, he's horrible, he hurts people. He throws things at his squire, I know he's hurt Tommen but I thought...I'm horrible. I've made such a big m...mistake" Tears started to well up in her eyes, alarming Sansa for she had never seen her sister cry before let alone in such distress "I never should have said yes, it's all my fault but I c...can't marry him, I just can't."

Sansa hugged her sister, hating how Arya's voice broke as she wept "It's not your fault. The King had his heart set on the match, the Stark and Baratheon union that he was denied. I wanted to believe that you or father or mother had any influence over it because then there was hope that it might be stopped but that was foolish. No-one can deny a King."

Arya looked at her with consternation "I can't marry him, I won't" She repeated, angrily wiping away her tears "I'll run away. I...I...They can't make me marry him if I'm not there."

"And where will you go? How will you live? How will you out run the entire Seven Kingdoms who will scour the country for the Prince's lost bride?"

"I...I'll cut my hair again, you said yourself I look like a boy. I'll dress in boy's clothing and head to the Free Cities." Arya decided.

"You don't have any money and you can't sell your jewellery, it will be too conspicuous and easy to trace." Sansa argued "Besides you can't run now, both the Queen and Prince Joffrey will have guessed that I've spoken to mother and father against the match. They'll be suspected, the King might be brought to think that our parents are hiding you somewhere."

"Well then I'll run away when we're on the road, in the Riverlands."

"That's Tully land, you should wait for the Crownlands, it will cause less suspicion." Sansa advised. "Wait till you reach Antlers, the seat of House Buckwell lies on the border. There the road splits into different forks going off to Duskendale, Stoney Sept, Kings Landing and the Reach, when you are discovered missing there will be different routes you could've taken and it will confuse the guards."

Arya nodded, gulping as though suddenly daunted.

"You will be well protected, the Hound will take care of you as far as White Harbor."

Her sister blinked in surprise "The Hound?"

Sansa nodded, she had planned to leave this to Sandor, fearful of Arya's reaction but it seemed as though Arya had already been planning her own reckless escape. "At the seashore you will meet a man named Abel, he's a friend of Jon's and he will take you to a village in the Gift where you will live under a different name. Jon will visit, if and when he can. After a few years the search will be given up and with any luck the Prince will have found a new bride. Then you can come home, you can claim that the Hound kidnapped you against your will and you've only just managed to escape."

Arya stared at her with wide unblinking eyes, then suddenly she lunged at Sansa, hugging her hard "Thank you, thank you, thank you." She whispered into Sansa's shoulder.

"You didn’t really think Jon and I would let you marry that monster?" Sansa whispered in return.

There was another knock at the door and the girls separated as Ser Addam entered "My lady, I'm sorry to disturb but his lordship is becoming quite insistent."

Sansa nodded and felt guilty that Ser Addam had had to suffer the wrath of Lord Tywin on her behalf. She hugged Arya once more and then stood up to take one last look down at Jon. A tear fell down her face as the ache in her chest grew ever more acute. She would never see him again and she could hardly bare it.

She leaned down and kissed him softly on the cheek "Please forgive me" she whispered in his ear and then she was gone.

**Ned**

Ned watched sadly as his wife held their eldest daughter, soaking up every last second of her before they were parted once more. Most of Winterfell had come out into the courtyard to bid goodbye to Sansa and Lord Tywin, they would come out again in a few days time when Ned rode south with his King.

"Don't cry mother" Sansa said softly "We will see each other again soon, at Joffrey and Arya's wedding."

Catelyn nodded and smiled as she hugged their little girl again and it struck Ned truly for the first time since she had returned that Sansa was not so little anymore. A woman had come back to Winterfell instead of a girl, a poised and elegant woman, just like her mother, who betrayed nothing as both women talked of a wedding that would never take place.

 _I will find a way to end the betrothal. I must_.

The King had grown even more volatile with the Imp's escape, more angry, more unreasonable, he bore little resemblance to the brother that Ned had once known in the Vale. He was not here now, bidding goodbye to his good father and debtor but blacked out drunk in bed with two of Catelyn's scullery maids.

As Sansa said sincere goodbyes to her brothers Ned watched Lord Tywin bid farewell to his son and daughter. It seemed to be a stilted, strained affair with little of the emotion shown by the Starks. The Queen appeared to have much to say to her father but he seemed to disinclined to hear it, retreating from her as though she were a bothersome bannerman rather than his own daughter. Instead Lannister strode over to Ned and the men shook hands as briefly as was acceptable.

"I hope the roads are good and the seas are kind." Ned said.

"I'll trust you will send word when Tyrion is found" Lord Tywin not so much asked but ordered.

"Of course, though with the number of men you've left here, you are more likely to hear of him before me" Ned replied, unconcerned about showing his distaste for the number of red cloaked Lannister men crawling the North.

"He is conspicuous enough. He will be captured shortly." Lord Tywin said carelessly "Unless he had help" And his eyes drifted over to where Sansa was saying a polite goodbye to the Kingslayer and Prince Tommen.

Ned felt himself tense. _He must mean the Kingslayer, he couldn't possibly mean Sansa. Where would she get the strength or the men to take out the guards or help the Imp over the Walls?_

He had interrogated the men thoroughly, both he and Lord Tywin had but with no luck. No-one knew anything. Tyrion had had help, that was certain but whether it was paid for or freely given was still unknown.

"Help or not, your son will be found" Ned assured Lannister. A lone wolf did not survive in winter, sooner or later Tyrion would seek shelter and food and then he would be given up in exchange for the King's vast reward. Ned may have disliked the way many acted as though Tyrion had been found guilty but he still wanted the Imp found. Running from justice, whether innocent or guilty was no honourable act and the Princess Myrcella deserved justice.

The men stood awkwardly for a few moments with little to say to one another. It did not escape Ned's notice that Lord Tywin did not ask after _his_ boy who lay clinging to life in a sickbed in the keep behind them.

"Are you sure you do not wish to take Ser Gregor's body back to the Westerlands? We could pack a wagon with ice to store it well." Ned offered.

Lord Tywin merely blinked at the suggestion "The remains of Ser Gregor are his brother's concern." He seemed to have little regard for the man who had been his loyal butcher for more than twenty years.

Earlier the Hound had merely grunted "Throw him in a ditch if you like, won't bring him back."

Ned grumbled with distaste as he realised that _he_ would have to be the one to make sure that the Mountain was buried properly, that the appropriate rites were carried out for the monster who had murdered Princess Elia, killed her children and sent Jon into the arms of the Stranger. Cat hated him for letting it the trial by combat happen, for what it had done to Jon but Ned hadn't been able to think of any honourable way to stop it

Yet sometimes he wondered if he would have found some dishonourable way to stop it if on some level he hadn't thought that Jon held the right to face the Mountain that Rides.

_The right to avenge his true brother and sister._

"Under the circumstances, I have had little time to talk to you on other matters Lord Stark" Lord Tywin suddenly spoke.

Other matters? He must have meant the loans.

"Oh?" Winterfell would have to repay eventually but only the Gods knew how.

"There is no time now of course, I will write to you soon."

Ned nodded "Of course...and Sansa, she is in your care. I trust you will see that she is well."

Lannister's face remained impassive "Of course" he answered simply as Sansa herself wandered over to them. Ned suddenly had a great urge to take his little girl back the keep and dare Lord Tywin to try and take her. Would she be safe in Casterly Rock? Would she be happy? Would what had been said at the trial be held over her head? Most likely, this was Lord Tywin Lannister after all.

_I am Hand to the King now. Let him dare try and harm my daughter._

Ned held the back of her head and pressed a kiss to her forehead protectively "I trust you will be well. Lord Tywin knows that I will bring thirty thousand northmen to the Westerlands if you are not."

Sansa laughed nervously "Father, don't joke about things like that. It is so unnecessary."

She kissed his cheek and a second later Ser Addam Marbrand was helping her into the saddle of a pale dappled mare. "She doesn't like horses" Ned muttered under his breath.

Catelyn came to his side, clutching his arm "I miss her already" She said as the pair watched Lord Tywin, his men and their daughter ride out the gates of Winterfell.

* * *

Later, once the sun had set and a thin crescent moon took its place in an inky black sky, Ned sent Arya to bed and took her place in vigil at Jon's bedside. He watched the shallow strained breaths of his boy and was reminded of those horrible two days in the Dornish desert when he had first held Jon in his arms. His first child, a shrunken little red thing that cried all the time but he had her eyes.

By god he looked so much like his mother.

He and Howland had been next to useless, two boys themselves, they had raced through the Red Mountains (damn near killing their horses) in a wild panic before they reached Starfall on the shores of the turbulent Torrentine river. Lady Ashara had been good enough to feed Jon from her own breast until a suitable wet nurse could be found and Ned had watched with overwhelming relief and marvel as the babe's greyish tinge blossomed to a rosy pink and his sluggish limbs danced and jerked in lively fashion.

"He will be wild this one" Ashara had said as Jon sucked greedily from her breast "A true wolf."

That he was. Quiet, solemn and deliberate as a hunter prowling the undergrowth of the Wolfswood while still being wilful and stupidly brave in service of his pack whether they were the Starks or the Night's Watch.

When they were young, Jon and Sansa were the least close of the Stark children and yet he had still been willing to die for her, to try and keep her safe.

Ned reached up and brushed aside his blackish curls, running his hand down Jon's cheek to his rough jaw where stubble had grown the shadow of a beard. He had still been a boy when Benjen had taken him to Castle Black. That wretched place at the end of the world had turned him into a young man, full of confidence, goodness and valour, who like all young men thought he knew best. Ned chuckled wryly, he would be ok this boy of his, he was too strong to let the Mountain be the end of him.

The fire in the corner of the room crackled and spluttered, Ned pressed a kiss on Jon's forehead and got up to throw a couple of logs on it, watching as the flames roared once more to life, burning golds, ambers and scarlets as they licked their way up the fireplace.

He turned to leave the room, but when he opened the door, he was surprised to find the Kingslayer outside, he and the Stark guards eying each other suspiciously.

"What do you want?" he asked in brittle tones.

Ser Jaime Lannister smirked "I was curious to see the bastard who had cut down the Mountain that Rides." He paused, thinking "Or should that be Rode?"

"My son is not a mummer's attraction, go to bed Kingslayer."

Lannister's smirk hardened "You would deny the Gods another voice in prayers for your injured bastard?"

Ned clenched his jaw and reluctantly opened the door wider, unable to think of a good enough excuse to forbid him entry. The door closed behind them and Ned watched as the Kingslayer fell to his knees for but a few seconds in token lip service to the Seven he claimed to worship. He then stood up and proceeded to survey Jon's form with green flashing eyes in a way that singularly unnerved Ned.

"You've said your prayers, now get out" Ned ordered in a gruff voice.

"Impressive... that a boy of nine and ten who fought nothing but peasants and wildlings at the Wall was able to take down the might of Ser Gregor Clegane" Ser Jaime commented, a curious lilt in his voice "I'm surprised you let him compete."

"It was no decision of mine. Jon is old enough to decide his own fate."

The Kingslayer looked at him with laughing eyes "Of course" he said as though he entirely disbelieved Ned. He turned back to inspect Jon "Still, I should not be so surprised at the outcome. Snow is quick and precise, I remember from when I fought him in the melee, I have seldom fought someone so talented." He paused, and then his eyes took on a knowing light "I suppose that he should be good with a sword, his father wielded one like it was part of his own arm."

Ned chuckled darkly "You've never seen me fight."

"True...but then you are not his father."

Ned's entire body stilled and he swore his heart stopped beating.

"It's poetic really, that Rhaegar's eldest son be avenged by his youngest." Ser Jaime continued quietly.

Ned swore his insides lurched _"What did you say?"_ he asked in a deadly hush.

The Kingslayer did not back down "You heard me" He replied, staring Ned straight in the eye.

Lord Stark lunged, pinning the Kingslayer to the wall by his throat, choking the life out of him "You speak slander ser."

Ser Jaime gagged under Ned's grip, yet still his eyes laughed "S...such a reaction for slander" He mocked "N...Ned Stark came out of the desert with a babe in one hand and a dead Lyanna Stark in the other and no-one thought to put the two together and come up with Targaryen bastard. It must grate you to know they were all so quick to believe you were as dishonourable as the rest of us."

"He is _mine_ , do you hear?" Ned hissed with anger " _I_ am his father. His mother was a whore I took a liking to, I fucked her and she gave me him in return" Still Lannister's eyes laughed and Ned snatched a dagger from his belt, holding it to the Kingslayer's throat. He watched with satisfaction as the man gulped when the blade grazed his skin. "Do not believe that my honour will stop me from cutting your throat if you continue to threaten to life of my son."

Ser Jaime narrowed his eyes "The boy has nothing to fear from me" he spat "He almost died for my brother."

The two men continued to glare at one another in anger. Could a man who murdered the King he had sworn to, truly be trusted? But then he had come to Ned alone with it, if he meant harm surely the best course would have been to tell his sister, the Queen or even the Robert himself. Could he truly be grateful that Jon had stood for Tyrion?

Slowly Ned released his grip and dropped the Kingslayer "I am the boy's father and if you speak these lies again they will be the last thing you ever say" he promised in a deadly whisper.

"Of course" Ser Jaime replied, rubbing his neck and giving Ned a mocking smile "I told you that you have nothing to fear from me. After all I am not the one who rode against Rhaegar or crowned that beast of Baratheon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've passed the halfway mark now and I'm afraid I'm going to split up the characters for a little bit as they go forth in different directions (on the plus side the pace is going to start pick up.)
> 
> P.S. Gold stars to those of you who previously worked out that Jaime was becoming suspicious of Jon's parentage


	17. The Imp, the smuggler and the king

**Jon**

He dreamed of a little girl with olive skin and hair as black as obsidian. She scurried after a black kitten, giggling and half tripping over her dress. Jon chased after her but although she was no higher than his knee he could not catch her.

Then she was gone and he was trapped somewhere cold and dank, surrounded by black stone. Chains were wrapped around him tightly and beside him he heard rattling as his brother yearned to break free. They called out for their mother, why did she lock them down here, alone and in the darkness? Why had she clapped iron manacles around his legs? He wanted to be free, he wanted to soar above the mountains, the seas and the deserts feeling the wind in his wings. He roared, his brother joined him and the chamber was filled with burning flames.

Jon woke, panting. He lay there for a moment and tried to snatch the fragments of his dreams before they spilled away like water in his hands. He stared up at the canopy of a bed, since when did he sleep in four poster beds? He didn't even sleep in a four poster bed at Winterfell? Was he still at Winterfell?

The last thing he could remember was Gregor Clegane's snarling face bearing down on him and knowing he was going to die.

_Click. Clack_. _Click. Clack._

Jon twisted his head, he blinked rapidly trying to clear his vision as he made out the image of a red-haired woman , sat by the fire, knitting.

"Sansa" he croaked.

There was a sharp intake of breath. "You're awake"

Not Sansa, but her mother.

Lady Stark stood up and came closer, surveying him with a cool eye "You are weak, I will fetch Luwin."

Jon closed his eyes and tried not laugh as she left. _Had she wanted to be there herself when he died?_

Every muscle in his body ached and there was a dull thudding pain near his shoulder that made him want to cry out. He shuffled himself on the bed, trying to force himself into a less painful position when his temple brushed up against something softer than the rough linen of his pillows. Trying not the strain his shoulder further, Jon reached back and pulled out soft fabric that had been hidden under his pillow.

It was the shirt Sansa had been making him, finished and hidden underneath his pillow and Jon's heart twanged as he thought of how close she must have been to conceal the garment under his own head. She had been there, she had been close to him.

He unfurled the black silk in front of his eyes and as the cloth shimmered in the candlelight, Jon was reminded of how his half sister's copper hair shined when they sat together by the fire late into the night.

Memories of the last time he had seen her came forth, when he held her in his arms and kissed her. Her lips had been so soft. A well of guilt began to build in his stomach.

Gods she must hate him, how he had shamed her so.

He heard steps outside his door and hurried to hide the shirt under his furs, his heart raced as he prayed it was Sansa. He would beg for her forgiveness, he just wanted to see her one last time before she left forever.

The door burst open.

It was Robb.

* * *

They were all gone from Winterfell, his father, Arya, Bran, Rickon, Mance, Jory, the Pooles, a good many of the guards and servants, the Northern nobles, the Southron court and Sansa.

Winterfell was emptier than Jon had ever known it. The entire castle stood quiet and still, almost a perfect prison.

Luwin made him stay in bed for three days as he recovered. The maester gave him milk of the poppy to help with the pain and Jon was visited by Robb, Osha and the little ones. Even Theon provided him with company but still Jon felt frustrated. Now everyone was gone there was little reason for him to stay at Winterfell (other than Luwin's demands and Robb's worries) and he ached to return to the Wall where he might busy his hands and his mind. Where he might think of things other than Sansa alone in Casterly Rock or Arya alongside Prince Joffrey on the Kingsroad.

He'd lost a lot of weight whilst he slept and Jon barely recognised himself when he dared to looked in the mirror. His arms were bony, his legs stick like and his face had taken on a horrible sunken quality that resembled skin stretched over a hard skull.

It was a fortnight before Luwin deemed him fit enough to travel.

"But you will have to tarry another day or two in Winterfell." The maester told him.

"Why in gods name would I do that?" Jon asked trying to tamper down the frustration in his voice.

"Ser Kevan Lannister will be here shortly. I understand he brings gold in exchange for your sword?"

Oh right, _that_.

Jon wondered if the Mountain had cut off his arm whether it would have grated less.

"I still think you're mad for even considering this" Robb told him as they waited on the battlements for Lord Tywin's brother to arrive the next day. Jon balanced himself against both the wall and his cane, he was still annoyingly too weak to walk on his own. "If you need coin that bad, I'll give you some."

"You don't have any" Jon smirked.

Robb sighed "Fair enough."

Jon looked out at the snowy moors, it had been three years since the maesters of Oldtown declared winter had come in Westeros and longer since the snows had fallen and the grounds had frozen in the north. "Are you...are you going to be alright?"

Robb snorted "I'm the acting Lord of Winterfell and a crippled man of the Night's Watch is asking me if I will be well, you have answered your own question."

Jon winced and he remembered how angry he had been when he had returned to Winterfell.

"Before he left Father told me it would be like this. That I would hate it." Robb confessed "He said that being a Lord is like being a father only instead of a handful of children you have thousands and thousands. I worry that I will fail them all the time. The farmers who plow frozen empty fields, the charwomen who cannot afford the raised food prices for their hungry children, the soldiers who will need to put down the bread riots...We're going to lose so many this winter."

"It won't be as bad as that" Jon prayed "You'll have help. That's why father's gone south to serve as Hand, he'll have power over the treasury and the other lords, he'll help you."

Robb nodded although the gesture seemed meaningless. "I need to marry. I need to marry well. I'll beg Margaery Tyrell if I have to and if she won't have me then I'll need to find some other girl with a bloody big dowry. Maybe there's some girl in the Free Cities who's father has gold to burn and knows nothing of the North...Of course that won't please the Northern lords, they'll think I've snubbed their daughters." 

Jon tried to think of something comforting to say "If it makes you feel any better, there's not much use worrying about any of that seeing as an army of dead men likely marches on the Wall with the intent of killing us all."

Robb barked with laughter and clapped Jon on the back "Oh I wish I believed you Snow."

Ser Kevan was a much less intimidating man than his brother and he brought three chests full of gold coins which made Jon and Robb's eyes bulge out. "You think Father would let me sell Ice?" Robb whispered in jest to Jon as they counted it out.

Once they were done, Jon handed over Longclaw with great regret and watched mournfully as the Lannister examined the Valyrian steel sword with precision before wrapping it carefully in a cloth of satin, then a sheath of leather and then tucked it away in a heavily padlocked wooden case.

"Did...did Lady Sansa send any word with you?" Jon ventured hopefully, wondering if Ser Kevan might have brought a letter.

Ser Kevan merely blinked "I have not seen her yet, I set out from Lannisport before my brother's ship had returned."

"Well when you see her, tell her…" Jon floundered, fully aware of Robb and Lannister's curious gazes "Give her our best regards."

Ser Kevan nodded "Of course"

Later, when the Lannister men had gone, Jon emptied all the gold coins into saddle bags and prayed he didn't get robbed on the Kingsroad.

His goodbyes were quick, Robb complained he was still too thin and weak to travel whilst Theon gave him a silver stag and said "Have a Molestown whore on me Snow." Jon scratched Ghost and Grey Wind behind the ears and gave both Hosten and Dallan big hugs as Osha told him not to get himself killed.

The Kingsroad snows were deeper than they had been three moons prior and Jon and his destrier laboured for two days near Last Hearth wading through a particularly deep drift. As he travelled he built snow shelters as Ygritte had taught him (although they were never quite as good at hers) and lived on the staling biscuits and root vegetables that Winterfell's cook packed him.

At night he stared up at the stars. Out in the wilderness the nights were blackest black and the stars sparkled brightly like jewels in the sky and Jon was reminded of the gems in Sansa's hairnet that glinted in the firelight. He looked up at the moon, white and round and wondered if she was looking at it too.

He had to stop thinking thus. She was his half sister and he would never see her again.

Soon the Wall appeared on the horizon, vast, imposing and shining white in the winter sun. Jon stopped a few hours short of Castle Black and searched for a particularly gnarled and recognisable birch tree. He looked around the forest to check he was alone and then started to dig. It took him most of the morning to dig through the snow and then the frozen earth to make a deep enough hole. Once he was done he buried two of the saddlebags of gold dragons.

* * *

"Jon!"

"Snow's back!"

"All hail the conquering bastard!"

For all that he enjoyed being back at Winterfell, somehow Jon felt a great sense of coming home when he arrived at Castle Black and was greeted by his brothers. They were happier to see him than usual as the supplies he and Sansa had begged for had started to arrive.

"Apples! Real Buttercup Hills apples, I'd never thought I'd see these again in my life" Pyp crowed and he, Satin and Sam took him round the underground stores showing him the barrels of meat, grain and steel with glee "We had swordfish last night, can you believe it _? Swordfish_!"

Jon chuckled. He and Sam left Pyp and Satin to revel in the stores and Sam followed him to Jon's quarters and watched him as he unpacked.

"You look terrible by the way" Sam said, looking him up and down "Are you sure you're fit to be back?"

"I can walk and ride a horse can't I?" Jon replied.

"Mallister was furious when he heard. I thought he might ride down to Winterfell to stop the fight himself" Sam muttered "Not that he would have got there in time."

"He seemed happy enough to accept the gold I gave him" Jon had barely gotten off the horse before Mallister's steward rushed to take Jon's remaining saddlebag of gold back to the Lord Commander waiting on the gangway. Jon had avoided meeting the commander himself, he would be called soon enough and the confrontation could wait till then.

Sam sighed "What were you thinking Jon? You could have been killed. You had to know it wouldn't be allowed."

"There's nothing in the oath to stop me being my goodbrother's champion"

"Yes, that's technically true but even so...your life belongs to the realm and…"

"I know who my life belongs to" Jon spoke over him then he gave Sam a smile "Never mind that now, I've got a present for you."

"A present?"

Jon dug around his bag, taking out clothes in fistfuls of bundles before he found the letters from House Tarly. Sam's face shone with delight as he took them and Jon didn't think he had seen his friend this happy since Gilly announced she was naming her boy Little Sam. He read them greedily.

"Flora's getting married. Oh, I wish I could be there, I hope he's good enough for her. She doesn't seem keen."

Sam continued to mutter to himself as he poured eagerly over the letters. Meanwhile Jon picked up the black silk shirt from the pile clothes, he turned it over in his hands, before folding it neatly.

"Is that a silk? You don't much of that at the Watch. Bit fancy isn't it?"

Jon smiled "Aye it is"

It was much too nice for him, but he was going to wear it anyway.

**Sansa**

Sansa stared out of the porthole at the thin white clouds that stretched over the pale blue sky for thousands of miles like a vast spider's web. She thought of Blueberry and wondered where she was at that moment, whether she was soaring under snowy Northern skies or had made her way south to the warm precipices of the Red Mountains of Dorne.

The ship gave a sudden lurch and Sansa grabbed at her bedpost so as not to fall on the floor. Kitty appeared in the cabin doorway "We have docked my lady."

With a heavy step and her heart in her mouth, Sansa followed her maid out of the bowls of the boat and up onto the deck. Lannisport looked completely different than when she had left three years ago, winter had come since then and snow covered every rooftop in the city. Above them loomed Casterly Rock, three years ago it had shone a shining, vibrant orange hue as the bushes, vines and trees that hugged the cliff face had donned their autumn colours of scarlets, ambers and golds. Now the leaves had fallen away and the rock was left as bare and forbidding as the castle that was carved into it.

By the time she emerged on the deck, Lord Tywin was already halfway down the gangplank and entering the grand wheelhouse which awaited their arrival. He had more or less ignored her the entire journey, from the ride to Barrowton to the sea voyage that followed. When she climbed in the wheelhouse the only acknowledgement he made of her presence was to tap on the roof of the carriage to signal to the driver to set off.

Sansa's stomach filled with dread with every turn of the carriage wheel as they traveled up sloping, winding roads. She looked out the window to the smiths, fishmongers and tanners, the tenement buildings, merchant manses and cottages as the wheelhouse rattled over the frosted cobbles, jolting ever now and then as they passed over a dip or raised stone.

They turned into castle road, the widest street of the city that ran straight up through the city, through the North gate before winding up the Rock itself to Casterly Keep. It was down the castle road that Tywin Lannister had sent old Lord Tytos's mistress. Not two days after his father's death, he had had the woman stripped naked and had the guards march her down to the city, parading her through the streets of Lannisport as punishment for her licentiousness and vice.

_He can't do that to me. I am not some candle maker's daughter. I am a daughter of Winterfell. The Warden of the North wouldn't stand for it. The Hand of the King would not stand for it._

The reassurances beat around her head yet the words did not stay her beating heart or trembling hands.

"I'd heard you had acquired a falcon?" Lord Tywin's words were completely devoid of tone "Where is it?"

"She didn't come back from her last hunt at Winterfell. I think maybe she preferred hunting in the North."

Her goodfather nodded. She knew he didn't believe her but she would rather risk anything than take Blueberry back to the dreadful place where Lady had met her end.

"Maybe she was shot down by poachers" Lord Tywin offered in that same toneless voice.

They continued in silence for the remainder of the journey, as the wheelhouse left the city and began the steep crawl up the rock. They crossed the moat and passed through the great gate which had been carved out of the rock to resemble the jaws of a gargantuan lion, every time Sansa entered the Lion's Mouth she felt a shiver in her spine. As they passed through the gate they were briefly thrown into darkness of the cavernous mouth before being blinded by the white light of the inner courtyard of Casterly Rock where the winter sun bounced glares off the mustard yellow stone.

Sansa recognised many of the faces waiting for them in the courtyard; the steward and his scribes, Maester Creylen, the Captain of the Guards, Septon Victel, Lady Genna and her two youngest Frey sons. She wondered where Ser Emmon Frey was but supposed he knew Lord Tywin would not miss his goodbrother's absence.

Lady Frey's sons were landless and had none of their mother's wit, maybe Sansa would be married to one of them. Her punishment and Lord Tywin's gift to his sister.

"Welcome home brother, Lady Sansa" Lady Genna kissed them both on the cheek "I trust the seas were good?"

As Lord Tywin replied, Sansa noticed that the Frey boys were watching her closely, both trying not to laugh while the septon gave her a judgemental glare. Unwillingly Sansa's gaze drifted towards the barracks where her husband's first wife had been given to Lord Tywin's men. Kitty had told her that each guard had given the poor girl a silver stag before he raped her, Tyrion had been forced to give her a golden dragon.

"I've had cook make lamb pie for dinner, you both should have just enough time to change" Lady Frey said brightly, she clicked her fingers and servants appeared, as if from nowhere, to take their trunks from the wheelhouse. "Sansa, I have prepared your old chambers, do you remember where to go?"

"Lady Sansa will be sleeping elsewhere" Lord Tywin answered for her, both Genna and Sansa opened their mouths but no sound comes out "We have business to attend to now, I shall join you later for dinner."

The Frey boys were no longer smirking. Lady Genna's face paled "Brother…"

"I'm sure the rest of our party is hungry, please see that they get something from the kitchens" Lord Tywin strode into the castle. Heart in her throat, Sansa followed. As she walked, she heard the clinking of chainmail behind her. She was too scared to see how many guards were behind her.

Within the keep, Lord Tywin lead her down spiral staircase after spiral staircase until they were deep inside the rock itself. It was a part of the castle's underground that Sansa has not seen before, not the mines, not the storerooms nor the lion cages, though she could hear the distant rumble of the imprisoned beasts. It wasn't the dungeons but there were cells and Lord Tywin lead her into one which was dark and barren but for straw on the flaw and manacles chained to the wall.

Lord Tywin closed the heavy cell door behind him and it shut with a heavy _THUD_. It was just the two of them but Sansa can feel the presence of the other soldiers out there. She could hear her breath, hear her heart beating in the quietness of the cell.

"Undress" Lord Tywin ordered in a brisk voice.

"M..my L..lord?" Sansa echoed in a shaky voice.

"If you are going to act like a whore then you might as well dress like one. You can either take off your clothes now or I'll have the men do it. It is your choice."

Sansa's body trembles "P...please...My father…"

"Your father will hear nothing of this" Her goodfather grabbed her and shoved her face against the wall as he snatched loose the fastenings of her dress "You are a Lannister. You do not have my blood but I was foolish enough to give you my name. I will see that you learn to treat it with respect."

Sansa bit her lip to keep from crying as the cool dungeon air hit her back, naked but for the thin shift she wore. She wished Jon was there, he would kill him where he stood along with any man who dared touch her. He was so brave, her black knight of the Wall.

Women could be brave too, Osha outran the Others, she crossed wintery mountains, watched as her man and babe died before her and yet still she lived on.

"I'm innocent" She cried as Lord Tywin wrenched her dress fully from her body, the fabric cut into her through his rough handling "I d...did not b..betray Tyrion."

"Are you a maid?" he growled ripping open her corset and throwing the garment aside "Shall I have the Maester come down here and check?"

Sansa's stomach lurched, she forced herself to turn around "I've only ever lain with your son" she whispered. She stood in her shift and smallthings, shivering.

"Not in this castle you didn't, don't think I don't know . Don't lie to me. That spiteful, ungrateful creature didn't touch you."

"He did. He did" Sansa insisted "He got tired of waiting. He got drunk many times and claimed me as his wife true."

A flicker of doubt passed his eyes . He couldn't know about Harry, he couldn't be sure or they would both already be dead.

"Kitty says..."

"Kitty wasn't in bed with us" Sansa interrupted "Kitty doesn't like me because I am not kind to her so she sees what she wants to see."

"And what of your husband? Did you help him escape?"

"No" she cried "I wouldn't know how."

Tywin stared into her eyes as though trying to dig into her soul. Sansa stared back. _Be brave, be brave like Osha, be brave like Jon._

"You used to be such a poor liar." He whispered and then in a sudden swipe gave her a painful backhanded slap. She gave a startled cry and slid to the floor, clasping her cheek as she felt blood trickle through her fingers from where his garnet ring had broken the skin.

Lord Tywin stared down at her in contempt "You will stay down here, like the slattern you are until you have learnt how to be a lady once more."

Sansa curled up in a ball on the floor crying as he left the dungeon, the door banging closed heavily behind him. She heard as key turned in the lock and as the Lord and his guard marched away. She was left alone, shivering in the cold and the dark.

**Tyrion**

Tyrion's chest ached, his fingers were numb, his clothes stank and his head felt dizzy. Worst to suffer was his dignity.

Once, they were free of Winterfell's walls, the singer had tossed him over his horse in a roll of furs so for days all he had seen was the inside of deerskin as his head swayed back and forth hanging less than a foot from the horse's cock. Its farts stunk up his nostrils as they plodded along.

The worst of it was that there was no wine "What kind of singer carries no wine?" He had complained. If he had to live with the memory of his father's judgement, of Cersei's malevolent smile, of Sansa's broken face as her brother died for him...

"The kind that will keep you alive." Abel answered gruffly.

Abel was strange silent beast. Tyrion had been suspicious at the start and every day of their journey his suspicions grew. They camped out in the middle of a barren moor, Tyrion was sure the cold would kill them but Abel built shelters out of the snow with walls so thick they did not feel the wind. He built roaring fires and hunted game, somehow catching hares, badgers and foxes in the desolate tundra.

_My father's men and the whole of the North must be looking for me. There must be a sum of gold large enough to buy Casterly Rock itself on my head_ , Tyrion thought. And yet they met no men. Not even a peasant.

They moved through the landscape like a thin wind barely scraping the ground and leaving no trace.

What was this man? Jaime had helped the singer free him from Winterfell's dungeons but had his brother hired him or Sansa? He could imagine Jaime chucking gold at the first servant he saw, Sansa he was not so sure about.

Abel was clearly Northern, he knew the land too well. Maybe she had known him before they wed.

"So how do you truly earn bread?" He asked one night in their cold little snow coffin.

Abel was skinning a rabbit. Only the Gods knew where he had caught it, the idea that anything else was alive in the wasteland outside was farcical.

Abel looked up and gave him a little smile "I sing."

"And play your lute? That must be difficult when it has been left behind at Winterfell." Tyrion remarked "Come, we both know you're no minstrel."

"What make you think I've left it behind?" Abel asked "It could be buried in the snow or the hollow of a tree for safe keeping."

"Singers don't bury their livelihoods in snows or trees."

Abel nodded as though he was indulging Tyrion "Southern singers don't."

He carried on skinning the rabbit. After more silence, he speared it on a spit and started roasting. The fire sat in the entrance to their snow hovel.

Tyrion eyed the snow ceiling above it with wariness.

"Come, we must have some conversation." He said impatiently "If only to distract ourselves from the very real possibility that we may be smothered any second."

"I know how to build a snow shelter little lord."

"Will you at least tell me where we're headed?"

"No" The mummer's singer replied "You'll argue against it and I don't have time to argue."

"Ah, have you got some more songs that you won't be singing?" Tyrion asked.

Abel gave a quiet chuckle.

"I know, lets play a game." Tyrion decided "I'll ask a question and for every question I ask, you can ask one in return. And we must both answer truthfully."

"Funny sort of game." Abel said "What makes you think I want to ask you any questions dwarf?"

"It'll be fun" Tyrion insisted. "Aren't you the least bit curious? My sister is the Queen. My father is the Lord of Casterly Rock. Don't you want to know if he really does shit gold? I could tell you things about them that would make your skin crawl."

"I doubt that." Abel said simply "I've seen many horrors in this world."

"Who wants to talk about horrors on a night like this?" Tyrion asked as the winter winds howl outside their little shelter "I talk of gossip and scandal, everyone loves a good scandal. What if I told you who the Queen lets into her bed after the King has retired to his?"

"I would say that I have bigger concerns." Abel replied barely fluttering an eyelid.

This unnerved Tyrion, he had always congratulated himself on being the only one who knew of Jaime and Cersei. Not even Jon Arryn worked it out, although he had certainly had his suspicions towards the end.

Could it be that there were whispers amongst the smallfolk about the Queen's fidelity. It was not as though Jaime was the only visitor to her bed, Tyrion had told his brother so just before they had parted at Winterfell.

"Bigger concerns than treason?" Tyrion asked doubtfully "You already know something."

"I know nothing. All I know is that if I was a woman I wouldn't be faithful to a man like that. Would you?"

Tyrion was taken aback "Its different, he is the King. I suppose you can't be expected to understand that."

This time Abel laughed outright and Tyrion narrowed his eyes in further suspicion "No I don't expect I can."

Who was this man? Where did he come from?

Tyrion thought of Sansa. His wife a good girl who knew her duty and what happened to loose women in Casterly Rock. And yet Tyrion pretended he didn't notice the way her eyes shined or how her breath quickened in the presence of Lord Arryn's young, handsome cousin.

Such a thought was not a pleasant one, so Tyrion continued his interrogation of the singer. "Very well I answered your questions now you must answer mine."

"You told me of your sister and now I should tell you of mine?"

He was not interested in the man's sister but if it got him talking..."Yes, tell me about her."

"I'm afraid there's not much, she was nothing but a gleam in my fathers eye that never came to pass."

"Very well then, tell me of your father." Tyrion says with frustration.

"Its not my turn, you tell me of yours and then I'll speak."

"Mine's a shit." Tyrion huffed annoyed.

"Mine's a dead shit" Abel countered with a smirk and Tyrion didn't know whether to laugh or hit the man.

"I don't like this game anymore" He said petulantly.

"Here's one more for you." Abel started "Why would a man like Jon Snow give his life for you?"

There was a hint accusation in his eyes as though Tyrion had done the man some personal wrong. It was well hidden and Abel was obviously a practiced liar but Tyrion had always been good at reading people.

"Because he knew I was the only person who could protect Sansa." He sighed.

Abel looks him up and down as though trying to search for some hidden warrior "Now that I don't understand."

They traveled for three more days before the smell of salt water hit Tyrion's nostrils. Not long afterwards he heard the sound of people and gulls squawking overhead. He smelt fish and sewage and saw cobbled streets through the furs as he hung on the back of the horse.

"White Harbor? White Harbor? Have you gone insane?" He whispered angrily as soon as he was set free from his scratchy cage. Abel had taken him to a dark warehouse with empty crates and broken row boats. From outside came the muffled sounds of a fish market.

"This is the nearest port to Winterfell, they'll expect me to come here. The place must be crawling with Lannister soldiers and Kingsmen."

"Aye, there were plenty of red and gold cloaks on the streets. I suppose the luxury of taking the roads meant they got here before us." Abel said sounding thoroughly unconcerned "Don't go anywhere."

And before Tyrion could ask Abel if he has always fancied his head on a spike, the man disappeared up a narrow staircase.

Tyrion looked around at the dark disused storeroom and wondered if he should make a run for it. Abel may yet mean to sell him back to the crown.

He heard raised voices upstairs and then a second later two men thunder down the stairs followed by Abel. One was young, dark haired and green looking. The other had a weather-beaten look and thinning grey hair. He wore dark brown boiled leather and black gloves on his hands.

"Seven Hells" whispered the elder man on the sight of Tyrion "Get him upstairs now!"

He was shuffled up the stairs and through dark back rooms on the first floor before being left guarded by the green boy as the other two men argued. He heard their muffled shouting through the door but struggled to make out the words. The boy stayed silent, instructed not to utter a word to Tyrion. Tyrion didn't ask him anything for he doubted that he knew much anyway. He'd much rather talk to the elder man in the black gloves.

He got his chance after sunset when he and the boy were allowed to join them in dinner. There was silence at the table except for the tapping of wooden spoons on wooden bowls and the slurping of some dreadful brownish stew.

Finally Tyrion could stomach the silence no more.

"So I am to be smuggled out of Westeros by the realm's most infamous smuggler?" Tyrion declared eyeing the little bag full of bones that rested against the elder man's chest.

There was a small pause where nobody looked nearly as impressed as they ought to.

"You are the Onion Knight are you not?"

Abel sat back in his chair and raised an eyebrow at the boy "Mathos, I said not to let him draw you into conversation."

Mathos's eyes widened and he spluttered "I...I didn't..."

"The boy is innocent" Tyrion drawled "I recognise Ser Davos from Kings Landing. You attended the Tourney that marked the birth of Prince Tommen."

Davos Seaworth nodded his head in acknowledgment "That was some years ago, I'm impressed you remember."

"I recall you standing behind Stannis as he complained of the cost of the event." Tyrion said "He was very good at draining the fun from occasions, before he went mad of course."

Seaworth twitched imperceptibly, of course that would be a sore spot.

"Davos will take you to Braavos, you can make your own way from there Lannister." Abel said.

"Oh wonderful, I'm sure they won't be looking for me in Braavos." Tyrion declared sarcastically "Its not as though there's a price on my head or its hard for me to blend into crowds."

"I promised to get you out of the realm" Abel said and he took a sip of the swill Seaworth dared to call ale "What happens to you after that is no concern of mine."

Tyrion silently seethed, and he tried to push down the fear that was seeping into his bones.

"The first bounty hunter I cross will take my head and send it back to Kings Landing!" He said "That is if I don't starve first, how am I supposed to eat in Braavos?"

"Get a job." Seaworth shrugged.

"Doing what?! A lifetime of wealth hasn't exactly taught me how to tan leather or smith or sail." Tyrion growled.

"You could join a mummers travelling group." Abel suggested "That's what lowborn dwarves do."

"And debase myself in front of drunks and squalling children? I may hate the rest of them but I'm still a Lannister." Tyrion spat.

"You're lucky not to have already faced the axe Lannister." Seaworth said "The Targeryens used to burn those that killed a member of the royal family."

"Oh are we going to talk about killing members of the royal family, Seaworth?" Tyrion drawled "The last I heard there was a large sum of gold on your head for your part in the murder of Shireen Baratheon."

BAM! The Onion Knight slammed down his tankard with such force that the plates and cutlery shook and even Abel looked taken aback.

"I had no part in that" he growled giving Tyrion an ice cold glare "I loved that girl as though she were my own flesh and blood."

"My father was on the Antler River when the Red Woman burned Lady Shireen." Mathos defended "If he had been at Dragonstone, he..."

"The Antler River..." Tyrion said quietly.

"That's enough Mathos." Abel interrupted.

The Antler River was beyond the Wall, it was further north than Hardhome. What was Stannis's right hand man doing beyond the Wall after the war was over?

What was he doing now with the most northern Northerner Tyrion had ever met. Snow's words the night they had dined together came back to him.

"Father's right" Mathos said "We shouldn't waste time rescuing a princess killer."

"Lady Sansa donated jewels and knowledge of the south to our cause on the condition that we smuggle her husband out of the North." Abel said firmly, he spoke as though he gave the orders regularly "We need voices and eyes in the south, you both know this. If Jon Snow does die, it wouldn't hurt to have another Stark to whisper in Ned's ear when the time comes."

"Well as long as we're getting blood money..." Seaworth grumbled.

"He didn't kill the princess." Abel sighed.

Tyrion looked at him sharply, shocked that the man believed him.

"What makes you so sure, Lannisters are a tricky bunch and..."

"I don't trust him but I trust my eyes" Abel said "I saw his sellsword slip something in Prince Joffrey's cup, not the dwarf. I saw the sellsword's face grow guilty enough when his master was accused."

"Wh...what?!" Tyrion choked on his own breath. Bronn had done it. For Pod of course, but that Bronn had done it and said nothing...Left him to his fate...

"Why didn't you say anything?!" He demanded angrily "I was almost killed, you let Jon Snow fight the Mountain, he may be dead for all we know."

Seaworth was now glaring at Abel too with unsuppressed anger.

"I had no choice."

"No choice? You let a man needlessly go to his death!" Tyrion shouted "Jon Snow was a good man!"

"Aye I know he was a good man. He was my friend and I would have died for him!" Abel snapped back "But I won't let my people die for him which is what would have happened if I had drawn undue attention to myself at Winterfell."

"You...your people..." Tyrion asked "But...what..." Thoughts moved and it all started to slot into place. Jon Snow's defence of Stannis, the right hand man on the Antler River, the northern northerner with people that gave commands.

"You're a wildling." There was no denial "A leader of wildlings."

Abel looked him in the eye impassively but Tyrion swore he saw a hint if a smile.

He thought of names he had heard from court "Tormund Giantsbane?...A Thenn?...Rattlesnake, no wait it was Rattleshirt wasn't it?...Mance Rayder?"

Abel inclined his head with a small nod and smile.

Tyrion let out an almighty shout of laughter. He laughed long and hard and almost manically. The boy Mathos watched him with almost fear.

"But this is marvelous, Mance Rayder at Winterfell! Right under the noses of King Robert and Ned Stark!" Tyrion proclaimed and the wildling King chuckled amused "All that time Robert spent frothing at the mouth, demanding your head and you were sitting in the corner playing the lute!"

"It had its charms" Rayder admitted scratching his throat thoughtfully.

"It was a stupid risk." Davos muttered with disapproval.

"Its a risk I'd take again to see my son." Rayder countered.

"Bael the Bard came to Winterfell followed by Abel the singer." Tyrion mused "Its a little on the nose don't you think?"

"Bael stole Lord Stark's maiden daughter, all I got was her ugly husband." The wildling King pointed out.

Sansa was no maiden.

"But why did Robb Stark not recognise you? The stories go that you fought sword to sword."

"Do you really think Robb Stark's the sought of boy to pay attention to the man his father's steward hired to play the lute at dinner?"

"No, I suppose not" Tyrion admitted.

"Besides that there was a fierce snowstorm the night we battled. We could barely see our own hands let alone each other's faces." Rayder admitted "Good thing too or I never would have gotten away."

Tyrion looked at him. He was a strange sort of King, this man in peasant clothes who traveled alone and drank awful ale in the back of dark warehouses.

"Mance Rayder, friends with the bastard son of Ned Stark and working with Stannis Baratheon's former lackey." Tyrion said circling the rim of his tankard with a fingertip "But I assume its not your counsel he's interested in is it?"

Seaworth shifted uncomfortably.

"Davos has given me good advice these past few years." Rayder said.

"And he's been an even better smuggler hasn't he? That's what your doing isn't it, smuggling wildlings past the Wall?" Tyrion declared "You've got both the Onion Knight and Jon Snow believing in this army of the dead...the same tale Stannis was told."

The temperature in the room dropped.

"Its no tale Imp" Rayder said, all traces of smile from his haggard face had gone.

"I've seen the wights, I've fought them. So did Mathos and Jon Snow and countless others." Ser Davos added coldly.

"And yet none of you has the clout to convince Winterfell or Kings Landing. Stannis did but he went mad."

"Stannis went mad out of desperation, because nobody would believe him" Seaworth defended.

"Well its very convenient isn't it?" Tyrion summed up "A great terror that only reveals itself to wildlings? That hides from Northern and Crown soldiers? One that requires the wildling army to move to the southern side of the Wall?"

"Its hardly my fault if the Stark men can't track properly Beyond the Wall." Rayder shrugged unconcerned.

"You do realise that you will be slaughtered don't you?" Tyrion asked "This wildling army, wherever it is, no matter giants and wargs and whatever...You don't have castles or cavalry or even proper steel. You will be crushed as you were two years ago."

"We haven't come to fight, we've come to hide behind that big Wall of yours." Rayder contradicted "We've children and old folks with us, its no army."

"The Northern houses won't see it that way, when they discover you...and they will, all they will see is a horde of savages threatening to pillage their lands and rape their women." Tyrion warned.

Rayder and Seaworth did not deny this and the Onion Knight looked as though he had had the same thought many times before.

His son was still green and full of hope though "But we're not leaving them in the North, Father and I smuggle them all over the kingdoms."

"And how many boats do you have?" Tyrion asked him.

"Two" the boy admitted having the good grace to lower his eyelids.

"And traveling in winter, I'll wager you've barely scratched the surface of wildlings that need to be resettled." Tyrion declared "The realm's waters are dangerous for the Onion Knight and its not as though you can take them to the Free Cities. Savages with no money, no experience of real civilisation and no grasp of the language...they'll be fresh pickings for slavers."

"Aye they would be." Rayder admitted looking uncomfortable. He'd already sent wildlings to the Free Cities, Tyrion realised, they've already experienced how vulnerable wildlings were to slavers.

"You'll all be slaughtered like quails on Feast Day" Tyrion declared.

"Do you have a point Lannister or do you just seek to depress me?" Rayder asked "One would think you owe me better after saving your life."

"And a Lannister always pays his debts." Tyrion said "You need a protector, someone with a fighting chance against the King and the Northern Lords."

Seaworth chuckled "And that would be you, would it?"

Tyrion smiled wanly "No, and it can't be Sansa either. She can't fight for you, I doubt she'll be able to spy for you either. My father holds all the power in Casterly Rock, Sansa is little better than a hostage." He explained and then addressed Rayder "You are a King and a King needs a Queen. To be more specific...a Dragon Queen."

There was a short pause and the older faces around the table did not look that shocked. They had thought about this before.

"You mean a marriage alliance between Mance and Daenerys Targeryen?" Mathos asked with wide eyes, _he_ did look shocked.

"No not marriage, she'd never marry a man without real land holdings." Tyrion dismissed "But a military alliance might protect you from the Northerners and this supposed army of dead things."

"If Daenerys Targeryen returns to Westeros, she'll seek an alliance with the Dornish first." Seaworth argued tiredly, as though he had had this argument before "They are her most natural allies and they have an army, a real army. The Wall is a long way from Kings Landing and Dorne, what makes you think she'll come here to fight for a bunch of _savages_ with no _real land holdings_?"

"Fighting is only part of a war, the Targaryen girl needs legitimacy, she needs a story and we can give her one - wights, the Others, grumkins and snarks attacking the realm." Tyrion explained, ignoring the glares as he once again spoke dismissfully their stories of nightmares in the woods, he didn't care for their offence, he once again felt life flowing through his veins as plans, plots and ideas came together "Your story allows her to come to Westeros, not as a foreign invader raining down fire and blood, but as the rightful Queen come to save the realm."

"If she's the type to care what others think" Seaworth said sceptically.

"She is. She has three dragons and an army of the Unsullied. Any man in her position would have attacked Westeros years ago but she stayed in Meereen. Why?" Tyrion gestured excitedly "Because she freed the slaves, slaughtered the nobles and brought chaos to Slavers Bay. Now she stays to clear up the mess she has made. That speaks of a Queen who, at the very least, cares for her reputation and legacy. If miracles exist, she may even care for her people."

Rayder scratched his throat thoughtfully. Seaworth looked into his ale as though trying determine the correct course of action.

"Take me to Meereen not Braavos." Tyrion urged "I can put your case to her and convince her to return to Westeros and protect your people."

"And avoid joining a mummers show in the process" Rayder finished, with a slight smirk.

More avoid getting his head chopped off by a bounty hunter. And if he could get some revenge in the process...

"Mathos and I could go to Slaver Bay on our own." Seaworth suggested "And leave you in Braavos..."

"No you can't and you know it." Tyrion told him "She won't listen to a common smuggler but she'll listen to the son of Tywin Lannister. I've been in Kings Landing, I know how her enemies think. I can offer her links to the Westerlands, my wife can offer her a way into the North, the Vale and the Riverlands. Sansa is acquainted with half the houses in the realm."

Mance Rayder sat silently, staring at the table. Tyrion couldn’t tell if he was mulling the proposition over or had made the decision long before they had sat down to dine.

"I don't know, we know little to nothing about this woman." Ser Davos cautioned "Its too risky."

"We're at war" Rayder reminded him "You can't win war without taking a few risks."

_This is how the world changes_ , Tyrion thought, _not with great battles between famed knights but in darkened back rooms through conversations between grubby inelegant men._

"I'll wager a few dragons would be very useful when facing the Others." Tyrion tempted further.

"The last dragons that lived were no bigger than dogs." Rayder sighed "Still its not as though we're spoiled for choice when it comes to allies, very well Tyrion Lannister...go bring me a Dragon Queen."

Tyrion choked back a laugh that was part triumph, part relief.

Ser Davos found a bottle of green apple wine from somewhere and poured them a much better drink.

"To the Queen." Mance Rayder raised his tankard "Daenerys Targaryen, the first of her name."

"Long may she reign." Tyrion echoed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and forth over whether or not to include this last scene. At the end of the day what is currently going on in Essos is not really important to the story so we're not really going to spend much time there, however, it will be important to know that Tyrion and Davos are heading to find Daenerys as well as why they are going.
> 
> In the next chapter we will spend some time with Ned and there will be trouble on the Kingsroad. In the meantime, please let me know what you think of this chapter and the story so far (both positive and negative criticism welcome)


	18. The Kingsroad can be perilous

**Ned**

As they rolled down the Kingsroad the landscape around them changed from snowy barren moors to the frosted swamps of the Neck to the white woods of the Riverlands where icicles hung from the branches of elms and redwoods and snow lilies blinked on the banks of the Green Fork. The land seemed alive in a way that Ned had not known in a long time; when he woke in the morning he could hear the dawn chorus and as they travelled he saw peasants working in the fields, tending to the winter wheat.

They moved at a frustratingly slow pace. Martyn Cassel had always said that a convoy was only as fast as its slowest parts and the royal party had cumbersome wheelhouses and heavy wagons that need to be dug out of ditches as well as horses that have not been bred for winter, stumbling and dying in the snow.

But the slowest part of all was the King. Robert rarely woke before noon whereupon he spent much of his days in an angry drunken daze, often threatening to go back north to hunt Tyrion ' _like the cur he is_ '.

Ned rarely slept, he lay awake every night with every muscle taught with tension waiting for a raven that told him Jon had died in the night. Waiting for guards to drag him in front of Robert and an axeman to take his head. His days were not much better, he was tired and strung and every second his hand itched in a desperate need to grab the pommel of his sword. He had Jory guard over Arya and the boys but that didn't mean he didn't want to cut down Prince Joffrey every second of the day, the memory of Sansa's tears engraved in his brain.

The darkest shadow that loomed over Ned's mind was that of Jaime Lannister. Half a hundred times before they reached the Neck, Ned wondered if he should kill the Kingslayer. Such an action would go against every code of honour Eddard Stark held but he would be a fool to believe such a man could be trusted forever.

_Why does Robert allow such men as he and the Hound in his court, they should have been sent to the Wall or had their heads separated from their bodies years ago._

And yet for all Ned's dark thoughts, he did not slip the Kingslayer poison, he did not sneak into his tent to smother him in his sleep or cut his throat in the shadows. And for all his fears, Ser Jaime said nothing.

Ned watched him as they travelled, trying to work out what game the man was playing. Was he waiting until they reached Kings Landing, did he want to see Ned's head on a spike of the Red Keep? The Kinglasyer was not the arrogant young man whom he found lounging on the Iron Throne after the Sack of Kings Landing twenty years ago and Ned struggled to read his face. He mocked and japed but there was a heaviness to him as though he was weighed down by more than just armour. An air of darkness hidden behind the hells-may-care attitude and something of a resentfulness in the shadows of his eyes as he watched the King.

One day, Ned grew tired of waiting and cornered him in the shadows of a wood just north of the Twins.

"What are you playing at?" Ned narrowed his eyes at the man with disdain

"Well Lord Stark, when a man loves food and drink very much, they flow through his body and he must relieve..."

"I've no time for games Kingslayer" Ned growled, cornering him against the back of a frosted redwood "Do you really expect me to believe you are loyal to the Targaryens?"

"If I was then you should cut me down for treason right now" Lannister challenged. "Unless even you cannot bear the hypocrisy."

"The bastard is mine."

"So you keep telling me and yet you are as skittish as a green boy as you corner me in the woods and press me hard up against a tree." Ser Jaime sneered.

"Enough of your mockery! You stabbed King Aerys in the back, the king you had sworn by the Gods to protect."

"You swore an oath to him too, every lordling swears an oath of fealty to the King."

"I was not a Kingsguard! They say he was without sword, did if give you pleasure to cut down a unarmed mad old man?" Ned sneered back.

"Yes, it gave me great pleasure" Ser Jaime whispered coldly, the laughter was gone from his eyes "You have no idea the joy I felt on seeing the light leave that old madman's eyes. The joy of knowing I would _live_."

"What are you talking of? He was unarmed."

"He had no sword but he had weapons more deadly than that. Whole underground chambers full of them" Ser Jaime whispered with savage delight "Under the Dragonpit, the Great Sept of Baelor, even under the Red Keep itself. Jars and jars full of wildfire. Ready to set the city ablaze at the King's word."

Ned stumbled back a step "You're lying." he accused "Others would have known."

"Only the pyromancers knew and I hunted and killed them all."

Ned stared at him uncomprehending, "If this were true then why didn't you tell anyone. Why didn't you boast of it?"

Lannister laughed darkly "Who would have believed me? You had already made up your mind about me the second you walked in the Great Hall and saw me sitting on the throne."

"You expect me to believe you care that much for what I think" Ned scoffed "No, no, you expect me to believe that you are some tragic hero?" He sneered "I know you, I know what you done. You killed the servants at Dragonstone, you let the Targaryen babes die. Even if what you say is true, you failed to defend the children, they were innocent, you should have guarded them with your life. You let your father's men murder them in their beds."

He couldn't quite tell in the darkness but Lannister's face seemed to sink, as though his skull were collapsing "They were dead before I knew it" he answered hollowly, then he sniffed and looked around before affecting a careless shrug "It was probably better that they died, they shared Aerys' blood, they probably shared his madness."

"You monster" Ned whispered.

"Your bastard seems sane enough though, I suppose he's lucky to have escaped it."

"They were babes in the cradle" Ned shouted, hardly caring if anyone heard him "Aegon would have been the true King and you allowed for his slaughter."

"And what of Robert, was he not your true king even before the Targaryens fell?" Ser Jaime challenged "It was he who ordered the murders of the Dragonstone servants, not I."

"And yet you carried it out"

"What would you have had me done?!" Lannister spluttered "They were going to die one way or another. Should I have killed my brothers in the Kingsguard, the rest of the Kings men? Dishonoured my house and my white cloak? Should I have taken up arms against King Robert to defend the island?"

"Yes!" Ned declared before he could realise the meaning of his own words.

When he did, he stepped back in shock, his own surprise was etched on the face of Ser Jaime. Surprise gave way to denial and disbelief.

"No" Ned said hoarsely "No"

No he could not take up arms against Robert.

The Kingslayer's lip curled "I thought not" and he left.

Ned all of a sudden felt cold. His head ached and he felt as though he barely knew himself.

_I do not know Robert at all._

Had Robert become a monster? He had done monstrous things, of that there was no doubt but Ned had trouble accepting that the brother he had grown up with had gone so bad. There was still some of his old friend left, he could still see that young rogue in the Vale as they travelled south, as they ate lunch by the roadside and drank together in inns.

He had done terrible things, he was capable of terrible things but would Jon Arryn have stayed with him so long if Robert were beyond redemption?

Ned almost laughed, he could hear Cat's sceptical voice in his mind _"Are you going to save the King's soul?"_

_"No, probably not my love but I have to try. If not for mine or his sake's then the realm's"_

_"This is not your fight. Come back to Winterfell. Gather up our children and come back home to me._ "

Arya, Bran and Rickon.

His three playful wolf cubs.

They had been less playful this journey. A mixture of fear for Jon and homesickness had rendered his brood subdued and sombre. Rickon had taken to wandering off, exploring the fields, groves and woods of the Riverlands on his own with only Shaggydog for company. More than once Ned had to send out his men to find him when he did not come home after dark.

Arya was quieter and more well behaved than Ned had ever known her and it unnerved him greatly. He worried that the betrothal was weighing heavily on her mind, that she regretted it but whenever he tried to bring it up she just shrugged and said "Well, I have to marry someone, don't I?" Ned didn't like it. He didn't like how she sometimes travelled in the Queen's wheelhouse or sat with her ladies and sewed - it wasn't natural.

Maybe she was just growing up, Cat always said that one day she would leave behind her tomboyish ways. Lyanna had been wild as a girl too, she'd had the wolf's blood, but as she grew older she learned how to control her untamed ways and become a lady of such grace that Prince Rhaegar had ridden past his wife and placed at crown of winter blue roses on her delicate crown. Ned's stomach lurched, such thoughts gave him no comfort.

It was Bran, however, who worried him the most. Bran had been the most excited about going south, he had talked with childish wonder about Kings Landing and poured over Sansa's letters more than any of them eager to hear more about the pageants, tourneys and the Kingsguard. Now the boy barely spoke, not even to Rickon

Instead he preferred his own company and would often retreat to the tent as soon as they camped to sit in silence with only his direwolf for company. Ned tried to cheer him up, he told him that Luwin's latest raven spoke promisingly of Jon's prospects, that he was arranging for Bran to squire for the great Ser Barristan the Bold but nothing worked. Bran remained silent.

Until he did not.

The journey was easier once they had traversed the Neck and passed the Crossing at the Twins. The snows of the southern Riverlands were less deep and so they started to make better time. A sennight after the Twins they stop at Darry, the castle keep was big enough to host Starks, Baratheons and Lannisters and Ned welcomed a warm room with sturdy stone walls and a roaring fireplace after days on the road.

He was writing to Robb when the door creaked over and Bran slinked in, his face awash with guilt and terror. Ned leaned back and waited patiently. Bran stayed silent and so after a beat he asked gently "What is it son?"

Bran looked down at the ground and twisted his fingers anxiously together "W...what would you do if you knew something...bad." He eventually whispered, his voice no louder than a mouse.

Ned frowned "I would tell my father and know that he would make it better."

Bran looked as though he desperately wanted to believe him but just couldn't quite manage to "Come here boy." Ned opens his arms. At first Bran hesitated but then he almost ran to sit beside Ned, squeezing into the chair. Ned wrapped his arm around the boy and kissed him on the head, ruffling his russet hair as he did so "There is nothing you can't tell me" He promised "Nothing."

"But what if its dangerous for you to know?" Bran whispered, his voice muffled was as he had buried his face in Ned's jerkin. He seemed far younger than a boy of thirteen and Ned's worry increased.

"Ignorance is far more dangerous than knowledge of any kind" Ned told him "Whatever has happened, I can help you, I will help you and it will be better. You are my son. What have I told you...When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack…"

"The pack survives" Bran finished and looked up at him with trust in his eyes "I saw something" he confessed, "At Winterfell."

"What did you see?" Ned asked patiently. Bran's eyes darted back and forth as though he expected someone to come in at that very moment. "You can tell me, we're alone."

"I saw the Queen and Ser Jaime" Bran whispered "They were kissing."

"Kissing?" Ned frowned.

Bran nodded and he continued so quietly that Ned had to strain to hear him "In the Broken Tower. They w...were kissing and...and taking their clothes off. They weren't acting like they were brother and sister."

Ned felt his arm tighten around Bran.

His son gulped "T….they talked about M...Myrcella. The Queen said...she said Myrcella was _their_ daughter."

Ned felt himself breathe quicker and he hugged Bran closer to him "Did they see you? Have you told anyone else."

Bran shook his head but Ned grabbed his shoulders, suddenly aware of the danger his son might be in "Are you sure? Are you sure no-one saw you?"

"I'm sure" Bran promised earnestly.

"Good" Ned breathed a sigh of relief "You must not tell anyone of this."

Bran nodded, he looked grateful as though he had been fearful Ned would drag him in front of the King, but then he frowned "But isn't it treason, shouldn't we…"

Yes it was, it was treason and it was against the Gods. Ned's heart filled with admiration for his son's bravery and honour, it was more than his own.

Ned sighed heavily "You're a Stark of Winterfell, you know our words…"

"Winter is coming"

"You were born in the long summer. You've never known winter before but in the winter we must protect ourselves." Ned urged "I don't want to frighten you but I won't lie to you either, we're going to a dangerous place and we must be careful if we are to protect one another, and Rickon, and Arya."

Bran nodded, he looked like he was trying to understand "The Lannisters are dangerous."

"Everyone is dangerous when they are scared and everyone is scared in winter" Ned said "I will deal with this I swear but if we are to protect our family then I need you to forget what you have seen. Do you think you can do that?"

"Yes, I think so." He seemed lighter, and Ned hoped he had felt as though he had unloaded his burden onto his father and was now free.

"Good boy" Ned kissed the crown of his head "Now run along with you and watch out for your brother, he's becoming more wolf like by the day. If we're not careful he'll have grown a tail before we reach the Crownlands."

Bran sniggered and ran off.

As the door closed Ned's smile dropped and was replaced with a dark look. He recalled in his mind's eye Joffrey, Mrycella and Tommen - all lions with golden hair and green eyes. He thought of little Mya, Robert's first bastard in the Vale who had had the blackest hair he had ever seen - just like her father. It had meant nothing of course, many children inherited their mother's look, most of Ned's resembled Tullys rather than Starks, but…

But now it meant something.

He strapped his sword belt around his waist and picked up a dagger to sheath at his side as well before leaving the room. He waved off his guards who would accompany him and strode through the dark halls of Darry to where the Kingslayer's quarters were.

"Stark? This is beginning to become a habit" Lannister huffed when he opened the door.

Ned shoved passed him inside and slammed the door shut "You will never breathe a word on your suspicions of Jon."

"I have already…" Lannister started in an annoyed tone.

"You will never breathe a word about Jon or I will tell the King who truly fathered the Queen's children."

**Arya**

The winds battered loudly against the walls of the Antlers, the seat of House Buckwell, the night they arrived. It howled mournfully and sent the branches of a nearby tree knocking against the window pane of their room, Arya crouched against the door to her room straining her ear against the wood and glancing back at the bed every so often, fearful that the noise would make the sleeping Beth.

She felt a little guilty about what would happen to Beth, she had done nothing wrong but would be blamed for Arya's disappearance. She consoled herself by telling herself that Beth would be sent back to Winterfell, far away from the cruelties of Prince Joffrey.

Arya pressed her ear harder against the wood's grain, trying to hear the keep over the noise of the storm but heard nothing. Slowly she pulled her bedroom door open and glanced quickly across the corridor. It was empty. A sliver of moonlight shone pale silver through the window at the end and all around her was quiet. It was the hour of the wolf and the castle slept.

Quietly she tiptoed down the back stairs of the guest quarters, Nymeria padded behind her like a silent huntress, and outside through the servant rooms. The night air and driving snow hit her like a blast of ice, almost knocking her down onto the back step. She was only wearing her nightdress under her cloak, a fact she bitterly resented "Men who kidnap little girls don't let them get dressed first" The Hound had told her.

Arya scouted around looking for some watchful guard or a servant slinking back from another's bed but there was no-one. She was suddenly grateful for the storm, it shrouded the sounds of her footsteps and kept everyone in their beds. "Come on girl" She and Nymeria ran, fighting against the biting wind, to reach the stables. The building was small and not big enough to hold all the horses of the Kings party, some of whom had to be put in the cow sheds or out in the fields.

The Antlers itself could have fitted into one of the smaller courtyards at Winterfell, it was an old ramshackle holdfast that stood mainly as a trading post of the five forks where the Kingsroad met the roads from Stoney Sept, Duskendale and the Reach.

Arya looked around the shadows of the stables looking for the Hound. What if he did not come? They were only two days from Kings Landing. What if he didn't come?

"I told you not to bring the wolf" a voice snarled as brutish figure appeared from the shadows.

Arya exhaled with relief.

"She's coming with us" She insisted, she had done everything else he had bloody asked for, she had kept her head down, she had played nice with the Queen and Joffrey, she hadn't asked _too_ many questions, she had come here in her _bloody nightie_ "She'll be good protection and she can hunt for us."

"This is all the protection we need" The Hound pulled his sword so a few inches of shining steel could be seen. Nymeria echoed a low growl but he ignored it "That thing attracts too much attention."

"You attract too much attention." Because honestly, couldn't Sansa have picked a less conspicuous man.

"What kind of kidnapper brings along his victim's direwolf? The wolf stays."

"If the wolf stays, then I stay and Sansa won't pay you."

"If you stay then you marry Joffrey" Clegane hissed, his lip curled menacingly "And how do you think that will go for you little girl?"

But Arya did not back down, she glared at him with all her might, enjoying Nymeria's rising growl "The wolf comes" she declared.

The Hound snorted and shoved something in her chest "Get changed girl, unless you want to freeze your arse off."

She hid behind one of the stalls and pulled on the shirt, jerkin and breeches that he had either bought or stolen. They were a bit too big and the fabric was rough against her skin but she felt more at home in them than the dresses that Septa Mordane had packed.

When she was done the Hound lifted her up onto his big black destrier and then climbed up behind her. Arya skipped a breath as he took the reins...this was it. In the morning Beth would wake up to an empty bed, and Lord Stark would be told over breakfast that his daughter had been taken. Soon every soldier in the country would be looking for them.

Arya wanted the Hound to ask her if she was sure, if she was ready but he said nothing. Instead he kicked at his horse and they rode off into the night, the wind at their backs.

**Ned**

He never thought he'd again feel the fear he felt when Lyanna disappeared. For days he did not sleep but scoured the countryside around the Antlers, his chest sick with fear and anger in his heart. They sent out dogs, they sent out ravens, they interrogated smallfolk, they sent out every man under his and the King's command.

It was like a living nightmare.

The trail wasn't going cold, it had gone cold. The snow had covered all tracks and the night and the forest had hidden all sightings. Ned was left with nothing but a gaping hole where Sandor Clegane had ripped Arya from. Horrible, dark thoughts filled his mind asking what the Hound had wanted with Arya. He told himself, he told Bran and Rickon that Clegane was likely angry that Jon killed his brother and that he just kidnapped Arya in revenge. He didn't really believe that or even if he did he was not fool enough to believe that the Hound wouldn't touch her.

_His little girl...gods this was so much worse than Lyanna._

They had sent men to the nearest ports, to Clegane Keep...to Dorne.

"My lord, I think I've found something."

Ned's heart leapt "Arya?" he croaked desperately.

Poole shook his head regretfully "We searched Clegane's quarters again" They must have stripped the room bare by now "One of the men found these wedged between the floorboards." he handed Ned three gold coins "I do not recognise them, they are not dragons."

Ned examined the coins, on one side was the profile of a man he did not know and on the other was the hand-shaped sigel of House Gardner. This was the old currency of the Reach, before the Targaryen conquest.

Ned's heart thudded in his chest and he recalled Willas Tyrell's request for his daughter's hand. Maybe the Hound had not taken Arya for his own after all. He felt his blood thrum with anger "Have the guard summoned back" He instructed Poole "We're going to Highgarden."

* * *

"She's not here"

Behind him Ned could hear the banging of doors, the shouts of guards, smashing of pottery and cries of Lady Alerie "Please, that was a gift from the King Jahearys"

He looked out at the balcony to the white walls of Highgarden below, in between the outer and middle wall was a thick briar labyrinth, the snow on the thorns shone brightly, reflecting the white moonlight.

"She's not here" Ser Jaime repeated, sliding up alongside Ned "Rhaegar did not take your sister to the Red Keep. If the Tyrells really have Lady Arya they wouldn't stash her within their own seat."

"Maybe the servants know something" Ned replied "Someone always knows" After Rhaegar died he feared all hope of finding Lyanna was lost, but princes and lords typically left a trail behind them and that trail could usually be found in the memories of scullery maids and serving boys.

Shouts sounded from below and Ned leant over to see two men arguing loudly. He recognised them as part of the party that Robert had summoned from Kings Landing - Renly Baratheon and the youngest Tyrell boy...Ser Lyall, no Ser Loras. He couldn't hear what they were saying but their tone was unmistakable.

"A lover's quarrel" Ser Jaime smirked.

"What kind of man is the Hound?"

Lannister shrugged "Brutish, likes killing. He likes wine and not talking, you probably know as much about him as I do. I never heard of him having girls as young as your daughter if that's what you're asking."

Ned shuddered a breath of relief despite it being a poor reassurance. Lyanna had been fifteen when Rhaegar had gifted her a crown of blue roses, Arya was fourteen.

What had turned the dog rabid, was it money, lust or revenge? Luwin had called Ned to Mountain's room at Winterfell the morning he had been found dead in his bed. It was then that Ned became aware that the room _he_ had assigned the brutaliser of Jon was the entrance to a disused secret passage few at Winterfell knew about. Ned had discovered it when he was playing as a child and then forgotten about it, or at least he thought he had forgotten about it. Maybe he hadn't, maybe he had subcociously placed the Mountain in that room on purpose in the hopes someone else knew of the passage.

Maybe Robb or Catelyn had too known of the secret passage.

"There were never any stories of Rhaegar either" Ned said "So forgive me if that does not rest my mind."

"The Prince seemed to think she went willingly" Lannister murmured

"She did" Ned confessed, his voice barely louder than a whisper on the wind "But she was sixteen when he stole her and he had a wife" he added harshly "You weren’t there at the end, he shut her up in that tower and left her alone...alone to die."

"She had Ser Arthur Dayne, the finest sword in the kingdom to guard her" Ser Jaime whispered harshly "I did not love the man, but..." Except he talked as though he did, as if he had begun to regret serving a King who had sent him to murder the Dragonstone servants "What was he supposed to do, ignore the war and leave the rest of his family to be slaughtered by rebels? He stretched himself too thin, he thought everything was his duty, the realm, the Targaryen legacy, his mother, his father, his babes, his women and because of that he failed them all. Better not care at all."

Ned looked at him in consternation _"Better not to care at all?"_ he repeated darkly "I know you don't believe that, though perhaps it would be better for your sister and her children if you did."

"M'lord" Harwin appeared, panting "I think you are needed in the hall, now."

He ran off and Ned and Lannister quickly followed the Stark guard through the ransacked rooms of Highgarden, Ned's heart thumped with every step.

In the hall they found Robert gripping a whitening Willas Tyrell round the neck in a strangling chokehold, the Highgarden heir spluttering and gasping for breath as his parents and sister pleaded on the side lines, held back only by the guards.

"Where is she you turgid piece of scum?!" Robert yelled red faced at the crippled man.

Tyrell tried to speak but no sound came out and his skin started to turn purple as he tried in vain to free himself from Robert's strong grip.

"Robert!" Ned shouted rushing forward to try and pry the King off of Tyrell. Robert stuck fast however and it was only when Renly ran in the room and helped Ned were they able to wrench Robert away. Willas fell to the floor with a thud, gasping for a breath as his family crowded round him, gathering him close.

"Damn you, Ned" Robert growled and for a moment "He took her, he took her away from us!"

****Ned's stomach tumbled, was he talking of Arya or Lyanna?

"Please your grace, we had nothing to do with the kidnapping of Lady Arya" Lord Mace cried.

"You think I believe the word of a Tyrell? I have not forgotten how you fought for the dragons, you steward's spawn" Robert yelled and he turned to Ned, pointing in anger to the Tyrell cripple "You said yourself that he wanted to marry her."

"But I didn't steal her" Tyrell declared in a determined croak.

The King made to lunge for him again but Ned held him back "Robert this is not the way, this is not honourable" Ned hissed at him "Jon Arryn taught us better than this. We need proof if we are to act."

"Lord Stark is right, brother" Renly whispered "This is not Kingly."

Together they were able to steer Robert out of the hall and pour enough wine down his throat to calm the King down.

"Go back to Kings Landing" Renly begged "You've left Cersei alone with the Iron Throne, you know we can't trust that woman."

"No, no" Robert mumbled, his breath stinking with wine "I can't lose her, not this time."

_Who does he see when he sees my daughter?_

"Renly's right, you are needed in Kings Landing" Ned urged "I can conduct the search in the Reach but you should lead it from Kings Landing. That's where the smallfolk who know will go to sell their secrets, work with Lord Varys to send out his spies to find my daughter."

* * *

Everything seemed bleaker the following day. The King had left but in the cold light of day the Tyrell heir's bruises seemed darker, Lady Margaery's eyes seemed redder, the pillaging of Highgarden seemed more destructive and Arya seemed further away than ever.

Ser Jaime was right, if the Tyrells had taken her then she wouldn't be in Highgarden. He would stay here a few days as they questioned the servants and the smallfolk in the surrounding villages and hopefully by then some new lead would have been garnered. Catelyn was headed to the Westerlands while her brother oversaw the search in the Riverlands.

_Somebody_ must know _something_.

With Lyanna, it had been Lord Varys. The bodies of the Targaryens were not yet cold and Ned's sword was not yet clean when the Spider sidled up to him promising him Lyanna's location in exchange for a good word in Robert's ear. Throughout the war Ned and Robert had swore they would go after Lyanna together, but then Ned heard the words "I see no babes, only dragonspawn" coming out of his friend's mouth and he stole away from the Red Keep in the middle of the night with only Northmen by his side.

"The years have not been kind to you Eddard Stark" Lady Olenna Tyrell announced her presence "You have managed to grow greyer and stupider. It's not all your fault, you are a man and northerner, that's a heavy blow to be dealt by the Gods."

Ned concentrated on the maps of the Reach in front of him, he had little time for the Queen of Thorns' sharp retorts.

"I was there that day at Harrenhall, of course that's no great accomplishment, half the kingdom was. Tell me, did you add even an extra guard to your sister's retinue after Rhaegar passed over his own wife for your untidy little sister?" She continued "To lose one Lady Stark is unfortunate, to lose two begins to look like carelessness."

Ned spun round to glare at the woman "Do you have something to say Lady Tyrell?"

"Yes I do" She pronounced, she was a tiny wrinkled thing but she spoke with the gravitas of a Lord Commander "I may have tolerated this insult against my house, this assault against my grandson whilst that brutal oaf we suffer to call King was here…"

"You should take care your words do not border on treasonous my lady"

"...But enough is enough! Your daughter is not here. House Tyrell did not take her and only a man with straw in his head would think otherwise."

"I may be a simple man but I have found that the simplest explanation is usually the right one" Ned told her "Your grandson proposed marriage and was denied."

"He wanted her name, you fool not her. You don't seriously believe Willas fell in love with a fourteen year old he has never even seen." Lady Olenna scoffed "What is the point of having Arya Stark if he can't marry her and produce legitimate heirs by her?"

"Then there is the matter of the coins."

The Queen of Thorns laughed mockingly "Ah yes, we paid Clegane with coins that could only be traced back to Highgarden, how stupid do you think I am?"

"I am not suggesting that you are stupid merely that the man who paid Clegane was incompetent." Ned answered "I remember you too at Harrenhal, it is not often you hear a lady call her own son an oaf or her servants halfwits."

Lady Tyrell narrowed her eyes in anger "Then I would hardly trust another to pay the kidnapper, would I?"

"Then there is the matter of your granddaughter"

"Margaery? What does she have to do with any of this."

"How old is she? Twenty? She's beautiful, rich, well bred and well mannered and yet not even betrothed. My heir Robb has offered for her and been rejected. My goodbrother Edmure has made at least two offers of marriage and has also been rejected" Ned said "One wonders why you would turn down the most eligible bachelors in the realm, unless…"

Lady Tyrell snorted "You call Edmure Tully an eligible bachelor? I wouldn't give him to my scullery maid"

"Unless..." Ned continued with a hard edge "Highgarden was holding out for a better match for Lady Margaery. A royal one perhaps? But then my daughter got in the way?"

Thin skin wrinkled as the woman smirked "You think we wish Margaery to marry that boy? As I said Eddard Stark, you have grown stupider. I've heard the whispers from the capital, the servants that go missing, the whores washing up on the banks of the Blackwater…"

She trailed off and Ned felt a sickening sensation in the back of his throat. The water clock in the corner of the room dripped.

Lady Tyrell continued with a lowered voice "If I was going to kidnap your little wolf cub, I would leave coins minted with the face of King Torrhen Stark...send the searchers off in the opposite direction."

"What are you talking of?" Ned asked, although he was beginning to think he knew.

"I'm not talking of anything, merely wondering if everyone in your House is as stupid as you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up Ned and Catelyn continue the search for Arya while Jon goes beyond the Wall.
> 
> Thank you for your feedback so far, please let me know what you think of this chapter and the story so far (positive and negative criticism welcome)


	19. Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall

**Sansa**

Someone was coming down to her cell. Sansa lay on the hard floor listening to the _tip tap_ of their footsteps coming down the spiral staircase. Slowly she pulled up her legs to her chest. Her limbs ached even though she had done nothing but sit in this dark cell for...days? Months? Years?

Time was hard to tell in this place, it seemed to bleed. There was no sun, no light at all but for the faint amber glow of a burning torch that sat in the bracket in the passageway outside. Instead she measured it in meals, plates of stale bread and mouldy turnips that were delivered to her. The only problem was that she didn't know how often...once, twice or three times a day? Whatever it was she was always hungry and her stomach always hurt.

The door opened and Sansa felt the draft prickle her barely clothed skin. She recognised Kitty's breathing as she entered. It was always Kitty or some other female servant. No man appeared allowed down here. Whatever she had done, Sansa still carried the Lannister name, she could be shamed but not ruined.

"Just leave the food and get out" Sansa croaked from her foetal position, sensing that Kitty was dallying longer than necessary.

But instead of hearing the clank of a plate on stone she felt the pull of being dragged up by her weary elbows.

"Get up" Kitty ordered heaving her leaden body into sitting position "Get dressed" She shoved a dress in Sansa's lap "You are to go back to your quarters."

_Is my punishment over?_

Kitty had given her fresh smallthings, a new shift and a clean smelling dress and Sansa pulled them on greedily. They felt strange against her skin but nice, warm. As she stood up, her legs wobbled and she stumbled like a foal learning to walk for the first time. Kitty looped her arm underneath Sansa's shoulder and steered her out of the cell.

Sansa was still in somewhat dazed state as Kitty manhandled her through the castle. She didn't notice the corridors, the chambers or the servants who fell into a hush on sight of her. The only thing she noticed was the bright white light of the sun pouring through the windows around her and digging into her eyes like knives.

It felt like it took hours for her eyes to adjust to daylight. She was taken to a bedchamber and as her sight adjusted Sansa realised that the room was the same as it had been when she was eleven years old. The same scarlet and gold bedspread, the same tapestry of dear dancing in a woodland glade and the same view of the shimmering Sunset Sea. She was dunked in a tub of warm water, scrubbed clean and rubbed dry, then dressed again.

Sansa held in a gasp when Kitty sat her down at the dressing table and saw herself in the mirror for the first time. She had lost weight, her face was gaunt and her skin...oh her skin was so pale. She looked like a corpse.

She had dreamed of being a corpse when she was in the dungeon. Sansa had prayed to the Stranger to let her slip away into sweet relief. Then she dreamed that her father, Robb or Jon might come to learn of what was happening to her, that they might raise an army and go to war for her like Eddard Stark had gone to war for Lady Lyanna. But all of her fantasies fell away as she imagined how they crash against the Rock and how the sky would go dark with arrows that fell down on their Northern armies.

"Seven hells, you look dreadful" Lady Genna announced as she swept into the room, and took up Kitty's role of brushing Sansa's hair, turning it from some wild bird's nest into something fit for a lady "I told my brother not to leave you down there for so long."

But why had he let her go? Sansa couldn't imagine Lord Tywin ever falling victim to mercy.

_When he is dead, I'll tell everyone what he has done. I don't care if my reputation is ruined (it's half ruined already), I'll write ravens to every keep in the land and tell everyone what he did. It will go down in every maester's history book, five hundred years from now all anyone will know of Tywin Lannister was that he ordered the deaths of the Targaryen babes and he locked up his gooddaughter in a dark dungeon and kept her there without sound nor sunlight._

"Your mother is on her way to the keep"

This more than anything startled Sansa out of the haze she has kept herself under "My mother?" So that was why they had to let her go "Why?"

Lady Genna paused for a moment before giving a heavy sigh "I suppose there's no easy way to say this so I'll just rip the bandage off. Your sister was kidnapped on the Kingsroad." She announced with so much bluntness that had it been a surprise Sansa might have keeled over "Apparently the Hound turned feral, took a liking to her and dragged her off in the middle of the night."

"Oh?"

Her good aunt's eyes narrowed suspiciously "Oh?" she repeated "You are not surprised that your sister has been kidnapped?"

Sansa wanted to answer "I am not surprised that a Westlander was barbarous." but Lady Genna had never been cruel to her so Sansa felt it would be foolish to rile the woman.

Instead she replied "I don't know what to say...I feel so…"

She wobbled a bit in the chair and Genna Frey seems to take this as a sign that her lack of reaction was due to having not yet recovered from her ordeal "Lord Stark is searching the Reach, they believe she's hidden somewhere there, meanwhile your mother has come to the Westerlands in search of insight. She's at Clegane Keep today and will arrive here tomorrow morning. What she's hoping to find is beyond me, the Hound hasn't been here in nearly twenty years."

Breakfast the next morning was a silent, rushed affair. As was usual at Casterly Rock, no-one dared continued eating after Lord Tywin had finished and Lord Tywin was a very quick eater . As such Sansa and the Freys had to inhale their food or be left hungry. This was not a difficult feat for Sansa after weeks of stale bread and she scooped up the fruits, cold meats and poached eggs with greed.

That morning Kitty had dressed her in a new dress, one of the most beautiful she had ever owned in an elegant sapphire colour with silver beading and lilies embroidered on the bodice in gold thread. Another might have thought the Lannisters wished to impress Lady Catelyn or distract her from her daughter's gaunt appearance but Sansa knew the show of finery was merely meant to remind her mother of the Lannister's vast wealth and power. For the same reason, both the Frey boys had been given chains of solid gold to wear.

"Look at how I dress my penniless, landless nephews" Lord Tywin might say to her mother "And see how much gold I have to waste. It would be a fool's errand to cross me."

And the end of the meal, Lord Tywin motioned for her to remain as his sister and her family left the morning room. He made no mention of her captivity nor her mother's coming but instead pulled a packet of letters from his pocket and handed them to Sansa. They had all been opened.

"From your many friends" He said "Some have them have been written in code. Maester Creylen was able to decipher most of them but not from the one from Highgarden."

"Lady Margaery uses a Yunkai shift code" Sansa explained. Unlike Jon, Lord Tywin didn't scoff but almost nodded in approval.

"Hand the replies to Creylen once you're done along with the cipher for Lady Margaery's code" Lord Tywin nodded "You will have much to tell your friends no doubt, your trip to the travelling menagerie in Lannisport and the fever you caught on the way back"

"Yes my lord" Sansa nodded.

"Good...and while you're at it ask if they have heard any whisper of Tyrion."

Sansa nodded again.

_So Tyrion has still not been found, he must be on the other side of the Narrow Sea by now_. Sansa wondered how he would make his way in the Free Cities, poverty would not suit him but then he had a sharp enough mind that he might be able to make money in ships or banking.

Arya worried her more. Her disappearance was more recent and her accomplice more conspicuous. The missing betrothed of the Crown Prince would capture the smallfolk's imagination far more than some dwarf. Where were they now; the North or would they still be in the Riverlands?

She spent her morning answering letters and around noon was called down to the entrance hall to greet her mother.

"Sansa! Lady Catelyn cried in horror on seeing her daughter "You are so pale, so thin!"

As she clasped her daughter's face in her hands, Sansa saw that her mother looked little better. Her eyes were red and her face had a sunken, waxen sheen to it.

"The poor darling had a fever" Lady Genna explained "Then with all this horrible business with Lady Arya, I'm afraid she's been worrying herself sick."

Sansa nodded weakly.

Lady Stark's suspicious eyes flitted to Lord Tywin, standing nearby, but she accepted the story and folded Sansa in a tight hug that almost crushed her bones.

Her mother spent five days at Casterly Rock. Lord Tywin had given her leave to question those in the castle who had known Sandor Clegane in his youth and Sansa barely saw her but for mealtimes and an hour or so in the evenings. Having her mother with her, in this dreadful place should have been a soothing balm but Sansa felt her stomach churn with guilt every second she spent with Lady Catelyn and she soon wished her gone.

Her mother was visibly haunted by the melancholy and fear of what had happened to Arya, of what might be happening to her right now. It hung about her neck like a great boulder and yet there was a fire underneath, a clawing, driving need to find Arya, to find those that had taken her and make them pay. Sansa knew that Arya had always believed herself a disappointment to her mother, a little less loved than the rest of her siblings. If only she could see their mother now, she would know how wrong she had been.

On her last day, mother and daughter took tea together in Sansa's rooms.

"The last time we said goodbye I thought I wouldn't see you for many years and yet here we are."

Sansa smiled "It was nice to see you so soon." Her smile fell "I only wish you weren’t going away again."

Lady Catelyn reached across the table and held her hand warmly "You could come with me, for a time. I'm sure Lord Tywin would allow it."

He would never.

"No" Sansa shook her head "My place is here but I will write."

"Yes, please do. And write to Winterfell, I fear Robb feels quite abandoned with only Hosten and Greyjoy left for company."

Sansa nodded and said she would. She had felt her heart skip when her mother had told her Jon was now recovered and back at Castle Black, she spent hours as she sewed daydreaming of him standing on top of the Wall, dressed all in black with snowflakes in his hair.

She wanted to ask her mother if Jon had said anything about her before he left but couldn't figure out a way to do so without the question seeming...indelicate.

"Where will you go now?" Sansa asked.

"Riverrun" Her mother replied "Your uncle is a good man but I would be more comfortable being present for the search of the Riverlands myself."

"Do you really think the Tyrells took her?" Sansa asked "They seemed so kind when Tyrion and I visited Highgarden."

"No one is above my suspicion Sansa" Lady Catelyn's expression was one of steel "Make no mistake, I'll turn the entire kingdom upside down if I have to."

Sansa's stomach twisted "It must be difficult...with no new leads."

Her mother shrugged "I'll have your father raise the reward money. Whatever it takes. We'll sell Winterfell stone by stone if needed."

Sansa sipped her tea, taking comfort in the warm flavour.

"It's strange, had Arya disappeared on her own, I would have thought she'd run off" Catelyn observed "Your father said you had reservations about the match"

"Only on whether Arya was capable of the responsibilities of a Princess of Dragonstone. I believe father had the same reservations for a while" Sansa said "But the King has his heart set on it, so what was there to do?"

"Mmmm" was her mother's only response and she gave Sansa the same piercing look that she had given her when Sansa was seven and made Arya cry by teasing her.

"Anyway, she didn't disappear on her own, the Hound took her" Sansa said, giving a visible shudder. If there were likely ears in the walls then there could be eyes as well "It terrifies me to think of her with that brute."

"It terrifies me too" Her mother admitted quietly "At first I thought he meant to punish our family for the death of his brother at Winterfell but after everything I have learnt at Clegane Keep it seems unlikely he would be much grieved by the Mountain's death."

"So then he must have been motivated by coin and who has more coin than the Tyrells?"

"I can think of one family at least" Lady Catelyn breathed "Sansa, if you know _anything…_ "

"What could I know?"

"I don't know, but...Arya is in great danger, we need to get her back. _I_ _need_ her back." There was almost a hint of pleading in her mother's demanding voice.

Sansa swallowed "I want that too, I would do anything if I thought it could bring Arya back."

When Tywin Lannister had believed her as she looked him in the eye and denied adultery she had realised that after five years as a Lannister she could lie to anyone.

**Jon**

_He was back in the darkened chamber shackled in great iron chains but this time when he looked down at his body it was one of a man's. Torches burst into flame all around him, this wasn't the vast cavern where they normally kept him but a gloomy labyrinth of tunnels, in the alcoves of which lurked the ghostly white statues of long dead kings and snarling direwolves. That couldn't be right, direwolf statues didn't snarl._

_Jon felt his skin prickle as footsteps came closer "Who goes there?" he called out "Show yourself!"_

_A woman appeared before him, more beautiful than he had ever seen before with hair as red as blood and skin as white as snow._

_"Sansa" Jon breathed._

_"I know what you want" she whispered, her fingers dancing down his chest sending a thrill right down to his groin "I can give it to you." She said with rose red lips that pouted enticingly._

_Jon lunged, his chains clanging as they strained him back not an inch away from her lips. He tried in vain to close the distance, to reach her, urging himself forwards as the manacles cut into his wrist. She smelt like a sweet summer day._

"Snow! Snow!" Someone was shaking him "Get up you great lump!"

Jon groaned and his eyes flickered open to see the grinning face of Thoros of Myr looming over him and the sun glaring through the cracks in the shutters over the barrack windows.

"Bugger off" he slurred, rolling over to go back to sleep. He felt a rush of cold air as his fur blankets were suddenly ripped from his body and heard the dry chuckling of Beric Dondarrion. Of course he was there too. Were those two bloody married, they seemed to go everywhere together.

"Oh ho" Thoros laughed "No wonder you want to go back to sleep Snow, pretty girl was she?"

Jon felt a flood of shame as he looked down to see his lower regions tented. He snatched a pillow to cover it.

"Come on, get dressed, we're going out." Ser Beric ordered.

"Take Black Jack" Jon groaned rubbing his eyes "I've just done twelve hours of guard duty."

His punishment from Lord Mallister for taking part in a trial by combat was an endless run of night watches at the top of the Wall. He had also been stripped of the office of First Ranger and the role had been given to Ronnel Harclay.

"Not out to the Gift Snow." Ser Beric explained "Out beyond the wall"

_Oh._

As he got dressed Beric and Thoros explained that there had been word of black market trade happening in the Haunted Forest and Harclay was sending them to check it out. Beric had persuaded the new First Ranger to let Jon come with them.

Dondarrion was good at things like that, he was a proper southron knight who spoke as well as any high septon. He and Thoros had come north during the War Beyond the Wall with Stannis and had been at Hardhome with Jon. Only a handful of southroners had survived Hardhome, most of them had drowned themselves in ale afterwards and then run straight back south. Beric and Thoros, however, had been stupid enough to stay and take the black.

Jon breathed in the cold fresh air with relief as the tunnel gate thudded close behind them and the three rode out towards the Haunted Forest.

"So where are we really going?" he asked when they were under the cover of the trees.

"The Bridge of Skulls, the Maester and Tarly have come up with a plan to destroy it." Dondarrion said

"A fucking dangerous plan." Thoros muttered.

"The bridge has to be destroyed. It's our greatest weakness against the Others."

"Aye" Jon echoed. They should have destroyed the bridge a long time ago but Mance had been reluctant. It was a way for the freefolk to cross over but they were getting deep into winter now and how many wildlings could be left beyond the Wall? He thought of Edd, Grenn and Tormund whom he had sent to the Mountains of the Thenn to search for stragglers. That had been eight moons ago and there was still no word from them yet. Had he sent them to their deaths?

"Grab your clubs and sharpen your eye for I spy a murder of crows riding by." Called a voice from the trees and Jon grinned as they were met by Tormund's son Toregg and his friend Leathers. Unfortunately they were also joined by Varamyr Sixskins, accompanied by his familiars and riding a snow bear.

"Where's your direwolf Snow?" Varamyr asked, Jon had not had the misfortune of seeing him since before Hosten was born.

"Far away from here. He's not my wolf anymore." Jon answered. _Maybe the man won't try to kill me this time, now that he cannot steal my wolf_ Jon thought. He was a cutthroat but a warg and they needed a warg.

They rode for a fortnight to reach the bridge. On the way Toregg gave him another bollocking for fighting as Tyrion's champion.

"A man should be his own champion or else only the rich may have justice." Toregg declared.

"By your method only the strong would have justice and they are often the ones who need it least" Jon argued "Besides Tyrion is a dwarf. It wouldn't have been a fight, it would have been murder."

Toregg shrugged "Then he shouldn't having been facing trial at all. His mother should have left him to die as a babe. That's what a free woman would have done. That would have been kinder thing to do."

"Aye, leaving babes to die, very kind" Jon replied with a hard edge. Life was hard beyond the wall and wildlings liked to talk as though leaving weak babes to die was the kinder thing to do but Jon had seen enough blind little girls and crippled little boys to know that not all wildling mothers and fathers were able to go through with it.

That practice would have to change if they were ever to have the Gift.

"Val was ready to slice you in two when she heard of it. So were many of us."

"I bet you changed your minds when you saw the gold I got you" He had sent Satin to dig up the remaining Lannister gold that had come from the sale of Longclaw and take it to Mance on Skargos. That gold was now on their last ship, on it's way to Dragonstone.

"It was a selfish thing to do. There are too many relying on you Snow for you to throw your life away on some rich dwarf" Toregg said "Still he was your sister's husband. She loves him and you love her."

_Not in the way I should_.

"My death won't harm you. There are others in the Nights Watch who you can count on - Beric, Thoros, Sam, Maester Aemon…"

"And how many of them are sons of the Lord of Winterfell?" Toregg interrupted "We need you Snow, so don't do something stupid like that again or you might just get yourself killed."

They camped for a few days near the bridge, waiting for the sky to clear and the moon to be full so that they might work by its light and not attract the notice of the Shadow Tower through the use of torches.

When the night of the full moon came, Dondarrion revealed the plan to them and Jon realised that Thorus was right - it was fucking dangerous. Beric and Thoros wrapped ropes around their waists and attached the other ends to the horses. Toregg and Jon then lead the horses backwards lowering the two men into the gorge that the bridge straddled. Leathers crouched by the edge of the gorge waiting for cracks to appear in the bridge pier that the two men hacked at with ice picks.

A few feet away Varamyr stood with glassy eyes as his eagle circled them high above, keeping watch. Every now and then Jon's eyes glanced to the silhouette of the Shadow Tower in the distance that marked the end of the Wall. That great barrier that loomed large over them, dividing north and south. Jon thought about the poor sods at the top tonight, freezing their toes and struggling to keep their eyes awake.

His father had said that the brothers of the Shadow Tower would be able to spot the Others crossing the Bridge of Skulls. They wouldn't, they were too far away. He wondered if Lord Stark had every been to the top of the Wall above Shadow Tower.

How had it come to this? An impulsive warning to Mance Rayder, a lie about Davos's whereabouts to save his life, sneaking Osha into Winterfell because Dalla would never suffer her son to be raised alone by kneelers, letting Val and three others past the Wall...It had all built up until there was a wildling army hidden in the north and Jon had betrayed his own family, his own people.

There was a low rumble.

"Pull them up! _Pull them up!_ " Leathers shouted. Jon and Toregg yanked their horses forwards. The rumble grew louder and the bridge caved in, Jon's horse whinnied in fright and he struggled to hold the reins as he tried to run backwards pulling the frightened garron and Beric with him.

The crashing sound of the bridge grew louder, sure to attract the attention of the men of the Shadow Tower. Over the frightened mare's shoulder he saw Leathers help Beric heave himself over the lip of the gorge, then they were running. They ran until they were deep in the foothills of the Frostfangs, only then stopping to take collapse to their knees panting.

"We did it! Fucking hell we did it!" Toregg gasped in triumph, clapping Jon on the back. Jon barked with laughter, he lay down in the snow, letting it cool his warm red cheeks.

"Where's the man from Myr?" Varamyr asked quietly.

Jon leaned up on his elbows and Toregg's grin fell as they realised neither Dondarrion nor Leathers were grinning with relief. Thoros was nowhere to be seen.

"Some of the bridge debris fell on him when it collapsed. It broke his rope." Ser Beric answered in a hollow voice.

**Cersei**

"I had not thought to see you so soon, my lord" Cersei observed.

Ned Stark's hands clenched and he tensed as Cersei entered his solar in the Tower of the Hand. He loathed her, he distrusted her. Perhaps he was not as stupid as he appeared.

"Not without your daughter at least."

Robert had been furious when Stark and Renly had walked back into the Throne room without the Winterfell brat in tow. He'd snarled and seethed and shouted at his old friend in fury. Cersei was no less annoyed, the gap between the friends was widening but the bonds of childhood brotherhood had not yet snapped. Just a week or two more and she would have tricked Robert into discarding Stark altogether as Hand, she was sure he would then appoint Jaime as Hand if only to stop her from bothering him about it. And that was important, Jaime must be Hand before they killed Robert.

Cersei did not mourn the loss of little Arya Stark but her disappearance irked her. The girl was a savage, impudent little thing who often looked more like a page than a lady, let alone a princess. She looked ridiculous next to Cersei's golden lion cub.

_Robert doesn't think so. He sees Lyanna reborn, I see that now_.

If Arya were found, maybe Cersei could fill her husband's goblet full of wine and push him in the direction of the little wolf girl's bedchamber. With any luck both Stark and Baratheon would cut each other down.

"I can search for her as well here as from the Reach" Stark said, his lips barely moved when he spoke. "And my sons are here. I understand you have locked up their direwolves."

Vile, dangerous beasts "They frightened Tommen" everything frightened that foolish little boy "And threatened Joffrey, your Crown Prince."

"They will do no harm to your children in the Tower of the Hand" Stark said sternly "I ask that you have them released."

Cersei inhaled a sharp breath. Who did he think she was? She was his Queen, how dare he give her orders.

"Do you have any new leads on the whereabouts of Lady Arya? We are all so worried."

Stark's stern face fell and his gaze dropped to his hands "No."

Cersei wouldn't care if the little brat were found dead in a ditch, she had only encouraged the match, forced Joffrey to be on his best behaviour, because her father insisted the girl would be more pliable than the Tyrell girl or Arianne Martell. More stupid perhaps but she had turned out to be as wild and as obstinate as one of the Stark's wolves.

But that didn’t mean she appreciated someone snatching the girl from right under her nose and making Joffrey look like a fool.

"I would never have expected the Hound to turn so rabid." Cersei spoke idly "He was always such a good dog."

"He may have been paid to take her, coin goes far to change the nature of some men."

Coin and other things

Cersei distrusted the Tyrells but there was someone else she trusted even less.

"He was fond of your other daughter as well you know. I used to catch him looking at Lady Sansa quite...ravenously" The little whore. Stark's jaw clenched and he stood, his chair scraping loudly behind him "I believe he would have done anything for her."

"If you have something to say, your grace, please say it" Stark demanded.

"People do seem to keep disappearing around Lady Sansa don't they? First her husband now her sister" Cersei spoke in sickly sweet tones "She looks like a delicate little lady but I can't help but wonder if she didn't spread her legs…"

_Bang!_

Lord Stark slammed his hands down on the table "I would ask that you think very carefully about what you have to say about my daughter."

"You have just told me to speak my mind. If you will not hear it then maybe I shall speak my mind to the King." _Unless you decide to renounce the office of Hand and go back to that frozen wasteland from whence you came._

But to her surprise, Lord Stark chuckled lowly "Aye and maybe I'll speak my mind to Robert as well. Maybe I'll tell him what I know about you and the Kingslayer." He spoke softly but in a dark, warning tone "Don't make threats to me, your grace, my little girl is missing and right now that makes me a very dangerous man."

* * *

Cersei felt hollowed out for the rest of the day, fear and panic thrummed through her veins until that evening when Jaime finally answered her summons and arrived in her chambers.

"Where were you?" she demanded as soon as he walked through the door. A pointless question, he was stinking with ale. A stench he'd often carried, along with the darkness in his eyes, since the Dragonstone massacre. He used to be stronger than this, she needed him to be stronger than this "He knows."

"What...who knows what" Jaime grinned as he started to play with her skirts and undo the stays on her dress.

Cersei slapped his hands away from her "There is no time for that" she snapped before hissing "Ned Stark knows about us."

To her horror Jaime's eyes widened and guilt lay within.

" _You knew?"_

"Look, it doesn't matter. He won't say anything."

Cersei laughed shrilly "You think honourable Ned Stark won't tell his oldest friend that _his wife is fucking her brother"_ she cried, panic overtaking her "He needs to die. You have to kill him. Take poison, take your sword…"

"No"

"Excuse me?" Jaime had never refused her. "What did you say?"

"You heard me, I won't murder the man."

She slapped him "You weak, pathetic man. You would have me murdered in my bed. You would see the children slain."

"No."

"If you have any love for me, you will kill Stark now." Cersei ordered.

"Seven hells take me for I love you more than any other." Jaime pulled her close and grabbed the back of her neck, forcing her to look at him "But I will not kill an innocent man for you."

"Then I will do it myself." Cersei promised, pressing herself against his warm hard body.

"No you won't" Jaime whispered nipping her lip "Leave it alone. Stark won't speak."

"You don't know that…"

"Yes I do, because if he talks then I talk. I'll spill his secrets and he does not want that." He kissed her with a low groan.

The arousal and fear that filled her was joined by something new. Curiosity "What secrets?" _What could honourable old Ned possibly have to hide?_

"No…" Jaime moaned but there was regret and self loathing in his eyes as she started to unbutton his breeches.

"What secrets?"

**Ned**

It was the winter and the Red Keep gardens were dusted in snow yet Ned still sweated. He tugged at his collar, endlessly uncomfortable in the southern heat, as he poured over the same maps of Westeros now fragile and tattered from how often he had handled them. Nearby was a letter from Catelyn, with stories of the Hound she had heard in the Westerlands and worries.

Worries that Sansa was pale and thin.

Worries that she was being poorly treated.

Worries that she had not been entirely truthful.

Had the Queen read this letter? It had been brought to him, sealed, by Vayon Poole but had Poole taken it directly from the raven's leg or had another got there first? He would ask Poole soon but for now there was a more pressing concern.

Could Sansa truly be involved in this?

It should be laughable, she was just a little girl, how could she organise such a thing? But then he remembered the tears and desperation in her eyes as she begged him to call off the betrothal between Arya and Joffrey. When she had returned to Winterfell, she seemed just the same only a little taller and a little sadder. Had she learned the cunning ways of the Lannisters, his stomach coiled in regret as he realised it would be foolish to believe that almost six years in the south would have not changed Sansa.

But where would she even hide Arya?

_Jon._

He had been with Sansa when she came to Ned in tears. Ned remembered being surprised that they had come to him together but then there had been more pressing things on his mind. Jon smuggled Tyrion to a Wintertown brothel for Sansa. He had almost died defending her husband.

When had his children become so close? Not before the King's visit, growing up they had had nothing in common and spent very little time in one another's company. Now Ned could think of one very big thing they had in common - their father had sent them both from Winterfell as children.

Jon could hide Arya. In the Gift or even within the Night's Watch itself. Arya would probably see that as a preferable option to marrying the Prince of Dragonstone.

_I will order Robb to go to the Wall and search the castles there._

There was a knock at the solar door, it was Lancel Lannister, Robert's squire. "The King requests your presence in the Small Council chamber, my Lord."

As Ned followed the boy, with a weary step, he thought about what to do next. He had only come to Kings Landing because he felt deeply uneasy about leaving Bran and Rickon, alone in the capital in the hands of the Queen. He couldn't possibly act as a competent Hand and continue the search for Arya. He would have to resign the office, he could take the boys and go to Riverrun to be with Cat.

They would search the Riverlands, Robb would search the Wall and they would find some way to take back Sansa from the Lannisters.

To his surprise, when he reached the Small Council chamber, he found the room bare but for the King, Queen, Jaime Lannister and Lord Renly. Ned felt a dark sense of foreboding before he even closed the door behind him.

Robert was red faced and furious while the Queen wore an ugly smug smile.

"You summoned me" Ned began.

"Tell me this isn't true" Robert growled "Tell me the damn bitch is lying."

Ned swallowed. She had told him about Sansa.

"You dare speak to me like that." Cersei snapped, her knowing smile slipping.

"I'll speak to you anyway I damned choose."

"What is this about Robert?" Ned asked, affecting an air of boredom. They wouldn't get her, he would raise the whole of the North before they hurt Sansa.

"I would like to know that too brother" Renly added.

"Tell me…" Robert spoke slowly as though he was struggling to get the words out, his mouth almost frothing in anger "...that you fucked a whore. Tell me that bastard isn't Rhaegar Targaryen's."

Ned's eyes darted to the Kingslayer who would not meet his look.

This was the end.

"Jon is mine" he answered in empty tones "His mother was an innkeeper's daughter from…"

"Stop your lies" Cersei snapped "He admitted it to my brother. Jaime tell him."

"You would believe Lannisters over your oldest friend" Ned called.

"Shut up the pair of you." Robert growled, getting to his feet and pacing.

"This is madness Robert, you only have to look at the boy to see that he's mine. He has my look, which is more than I can say for your children."

"He has your sister's look" Cersei spoke over him "He looks like Lyanna."

"But he fights like Rhaegar" Robert muttered to himself "I knew there was something familiar about him."

"This is slander!" Ned shouted "These are base lies Cersei has told you because I know the truth. It is your Queen who has betrayed you Robert, not I. She lies with her brother and the princes are bastards born of incest not Baratheon blood."

Cersei laughed mockingly "You would make up anything to cover your treachery."

Robert didn't appear to be listening to any of them, he was pacing the chamber, muttering to himself. He suddenly swung round, pointing at Ned as he marched towards him.

"You are the most honourable man I know. I dragged you from brothel to brothel. The night you heard that your father and brother had been murdered by the Mad King, I filled you with wine and put two naked whores in your lap, one on each knee and still you did nothing. You - a free man!" Robert accused "Then you come back from Dorne with a babe and claim you forsook your wedding vows to beget a bastard. I should have seen it from the start."

Ned gulped "This is a lie." he said hoarsely.

"How did your sister die?" Renly asked quietly from the table "If not childbirth, what was it that killed the young and healthy Lady Lyanna?"

"A fever" Ned lied with practiced ease.

"What kind of fever?"

Ned opened his mouth but no words came out.

_Think of a fever, any fever will do_ , _just say anything._

But his mind had gone blank.

He looked around helplessly, all in the room glared back at him, but Ser Jaime who was staring guiltily at his shoes.

"GUARDS!" the King shouted, the doors to the Small Council chamber opened and Ned heard men in chainmail enter behind him "Seize Lord Stark and take him to the black cells!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think about this chapter and the story so far (both positive and negative criticism welcome)


	20. Cry 'havoc', and let slip the dogs of war

**Sansa**

From most angles the vista from Sansa's window showed the beautiful golden shimmers of the Sunset sea, but if one looked straight down, three floors down, they would see a little courtyard around which the Casterly Rock stables were situated. On a quiet day, when the winds did not blow and the seas did not storm, the idle chatter of the stable boys drifted up to Sansa's window.

Today was not a quiet day.

Sansa sat at her window, gazing down and listened to men barking orders, horses whinnying loudly as they were pushed and pulled into position, the clanging of metal as men moved around armour and artillery.

The men of the Westerlands were going to war. Everyone was going to war. They said her brother Robb was marching down the Neck with an army of twenty thousand Northmen to free Lord Stark from the Red Keep. She'd heard hushed whispers that Lord Tully was raising every man in the Riverlands to join his sister's family. Nobody knew why the King had locked his oldest friend in the black cells but everyone knew that it meant war.

In her weaker moments Sansa feared that it was because Robert Baratheon had learned some truth about the things she and Jon had done and was punishing father for it. But that couldn't be right, somebody would have told her if she had been accused of a crime and nobody had mentioned Jon at all. Not that she had had much opportunity for conversation. She was a hostage, that much had been made clear. The Lannisters had locked her in her quarters and put a guard on the door. She was only allowed out for the odd family dinner when Lady Genna was feeling generous (Lord Tywin had gone ahead to Lannisport to call his banners) and she was forbidden in partaking in any of her correspondence.

The last letter Sansa had received was from Jynessa Blackmont, informing her that her mother Lady Blackmont was dead and she was unwillingly being courted by her neighbour, Ser Gerrold Dayne (or 'Darkstar' as they called him). She was forbidden from offering her friend and words of sympathy or comfort.

Sansa hugged herself as she watched a wagon overflowing with sharp, steel pikes be pulled into the yard and then directed out again. One of the horses, a powerful destrier, gave a loud snort as boys fitted a curved plate of armour over its hindquarter.

She wished Jon were with her, she imagined him standing firm and strong behind her and wrapping his warm arms around her as he whispered that everything would be turn out well..

**Jaime**

There was a chill in the throne room as though a winter breeze had somehow leaked through the red stone of the Red Keep. It was late morning but in mid-winter the sun was low in the sky and it shone blindingly behind the Iron Throne casting the towering structure as a black spiky silhouette that threw a long dark shadow over the rest of the great chamber.

On top of the throne sat Joffrey. From the corner of his eye, Jaime could see the boy unfurl and clench his fists, his green eyes darting about frantically with suspicion. He looked like some kind of cornered wild animal, rabid, frightened and ready to strike

Jaime could almost hear the thoughts of the court before him, quiet and many. 'Sister-fucker', 'traitor', 'bastard' were the whispers that dogged the jittery halls of Red Keep.

_"Cersei is a lying whore, she's been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and probably Moon Boy for all I know."_

Jaime stood at to the right foot of the throne, his eyes straining against the urge to collapse in tiredness. He was sleeping with one eye open at the moment.

Maybe Renly had talked. Maybe somebody had eavesdropped on that ill fated confrontation in the Small Council. Maybe Ned Stark was shouting the dark Lannister truth for all the world to hear from his black cell. Somehow word had got out and Jaime was alert to every shadow round the corner, every footstep on carpet, waiting...waiting for men with swords to come and strike him down.

At the left foot of the throne sat Cersei, resplendent in an elaborate dress of gold and silver. She said she didn't fear the court, she'd told Jaime that she had the gold cloaks in her service, she said they should only fear Robert and Renly.

Jaime did not quake in his boots at the thought of that pillow biter Renly nor his motely group of giantesses and perfumed knights. But he knew better than to underestimate the King. Robert may have let himself go to seed but he was still taller and stronger than most men, Jaime included.

The King had barricaded himself into his chambers like a young maid grieving a fallen beloved. It appeared Robert was too distraught at the betrayal of his oldest friend, too catatonic to take in the allegations that his Queen was fucking her brother and had dressed bastards in crowns and cloaks of gold. He only obsessed over the Targaryen bastard. Robert had only cared about Lyanna and the dragons, never kinging. Ravens were probably already on their way to Castle Black ordering the boy's death.

If he wasn't dead already, he very soon would be.

Jaime told himself that he didn't care, he told himself that Jon Snow was a sullen, self-righteous brat that the world wouldn't miss. He told himself that Snow had the blood of the Mad King and it was probably for the greater good that he was put down. He told himself that it was a long time ago since he had stood outside Queen Rhaella's chambers listening to her screams and praying for the day that Rhaegar would take the throne - Rhaegar was dead, what did it matter if the last of his children joined him in the seven hells.

Now the bastard's half brother...no, cousin,...stood trembling in front of the Iron Throne.

"Bran Stark, you have been brought here to answer for your treachery, for the treachery of your family." Joffrey proclaimed.

He was a skinny little boy with russet hair and bright blue eyes, he had crooked, twig like limbs that trembled under the glare under the court. The boy was nothing like the tall, muscular and darkly handsome Brandon Stark that had stood in the same throne room twenty years ago, on the very spot where his nephew now trembled. Only the intractable defiance in their eyes was the same.

"Read the charges cousin"

Lancel Lannister, his Uncle Kevan's foppish son stepped forward. Cersei had brought him to court shortly after Tommen was born and positioned him as the King's squire. It was then that she first started plotting Robert's death with any seriousness. She had Lancel give the King fortified strongwine during hunts in the hope that he might fall from his horse or be gored by a pack of wolves.

"The Crown charges that you and your younger brother attempted to break into the black cells and free your traitorous father in direct defiance of the King's law" Lancel read from an unrolled scroll "You must also answer for the crimes of your elder brother. He and his heathen men march south with an army of wolves, they slaughter villages in their wake, murdering men, women and children, all faithful followers of the Seven" There were murmurs in the court "After the slaughter, they feast on the flesh of the slain."

There were gasps from quite a few. Out of the corner of his eye Jaime noticed Lord Rosby smirk in disbelief whilst Lord Varys' eyes flashed momentarily with incredulity.

"Where is little Rickon?" Cersei asked softly.

_"Cersei is a lying whore, she's been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and probably Moon Boy for all I know."_

She wanted him to kill Robert tonight. To climb into the chambers through the bedroom window and slit his throat whilst he slept. Jaime had said 'no', he was angry at her, she had betrayed him. For all her cruelty, for all Tyrion's last words to him, he never thought Cersei capable of outright lying to him but she had looked him in the eye and sworn she would tell no-one of Jon Snow.

Not that he cared about Snow or Ned Stark. He probably would kill Robert tonight, if only to save his own skin.

"I don't know" Stark's boy mumbled.

"Liar!" Joffrey accused.

Any fool knew he was telling the truth. The guards had come across both boys sneaking through the cellars, trying to find some way into the dungeons. They had caught Bran but Rickon had alluded them. The gold cloaks were combing the entirety of Kings Landing, the boy would be found soon enough.

"I don't know!" Bran repeated in a louder voice "But if I did then I wouldn't tell you!"

"Hit him Ser Meryn!"

Trant backhanded the boy roughly so he fell to the floor with a thud and a sharp cry. Tommen, who sat next to his mother, whimpered.

"You are a traitor. You are traitor's spawn. Your father conspired with Daenerys Targaryen to bring fire and blood to the people of…"

"You're lying!" Bran Stark shouted. "My father's no traitor…"

"Silence!"

"You're the traitor. You're a bastard. Robert Baratheon isn't your father, the Kingslayer is!"

Foolish boy. There was gasps and the murmuring grew louder as Jaime felt several dozen curious eyes shift to him, waiting impatiently to see how he would react.

"A disgusting lie" Cersei proclaimed regally. How beautifully did she lie? Even Lancel believed it to be the truth, his eyes were enraptured.

_"Cersei is a lying whore, she's been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and probably Moon Boy for all I know."_

How many times had she lied to him?

"It's not a lie, I saw you, I saw the Queen and Ser Jaime naked together at Winterfell!" Bran Stark shouted.

Even Jaime in took a breath at this, so that was how Stark found out. Cersei seemed stunned into silence and Joffrey had gone completely white.

"Baseless, filthy lies!" He spluttered angrily "You soil my father, _the King's_ court with your treasonous talk, I will have your tongue cut out…"

"You're nothing but a basta…" Trant grabbled the Stark boy round the waist, bringing up a chainmail hand to muffle him.

"Enough! The realm will stand for your crimes no more. Ser Ilyn, bring me his head."

The court broke out into loud chatter, surging as far forward as they dared. Varys, tried, in vain to push through them, waving his fat arms about frantically.

Tommen was sobbing hysterically, he tried to run to Bran but Cersei seized him round the waist. "No Joffrey, please, this is not wise" she called to Joffrey as her youngest son, hit her with flailing limbs, trying to escape.

Jaime stood there for a moment, almost paralysed, as Ser Ilyn emerged from the shadows - he was carrying the Stark greatsword, Ice. Trant along with Ser Boros Blount forced the crying Bran Stark to his knees. These were his brothers in the Kingsguard? These were the heirs to Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning?

Adrenaline surged through Jaime and he bounded up the steps to the Iron Throne, grabbing his bastard son by the scruff of the neck and shaking him roughly "Stop this madness"

Joffrey pushed him at him "Get off me, I am your prince."

There was a sharp pain in his throat and another of his Kingsguard brothers, Ser Mandon Moore yanked him away by his pristine white cloak.

_"Please"_ Bran Stark whimpered. His uncle had whimpered in the end too.

Jaime wrenched free from Moore, they were too close to draw swords so he punched him. Moore's nose made a cracking sound but the brute quickly head butted him in return. Jaime staggered in pain, clutching his blood wet nose. He was dimly away of a hand being raised in signal, the soft swish of a falling sword and the thud of a head rolling on the floor.

Bran Stark whimpered no more.

**Jon**

The library at Castle Black was underground, next to the stores, and thus always in shrouded in darkness. Jon read aloud long forgotten texts, barely taking in the words written in faded ink on tattered pages that had been chewed on by mice.

There were thousands of books and scrolls, each as dull and helpless as the next; inventory records, expedition reports, histories of Lord Commanders long since passed who'd had nothing better to do in this frozen wasteland than order the Maester to record their pitiful life's work for posterity.

"Slow down, slow down" Maester Aemon croaked and Jon realised he had been rattling out words too quickly for the old man to take in.

"I'm sorry" Jon mumbled

"You have read the same sentence three times. You have something else on your mind Snow"

"Why would you say that?" Jon grumbled with a sarcastic bite in his voice.

He'd thought about running south half a hundred times since he'd heard of Lord Stark's arrest. His little brothers were hostages to the crown, their direwolves had been slain, Robb had raised an army and was marching south and Sansa...Sansa was in the mouth of the lion in Casterly Rock.

"I was already an old man when the Gods decided to test my honour, my sense of duty but for you…"

"Don't" Jon stopped him "Just don't. I don't need the speech."

"The speech?" The old Maester chuckled.

"Aye, the one about how duty is easy when nothing is at stake, the one where the older men of the Watch tell green boys how hard it was when their vows were tested but even so they held firm. The one where the feeling green boy is reminded that he is needed to guard the realms of men, that our war is the most important one of them all." Jon recited "I'm not a green boy anymore. I know my duty. I'm still here, aren’t I?"

"In body perhaps, but not in heart. Your heart is miles away."

"I'm doing the best I can."

"Well try harder" The Maester said in an uncharacteristic firm tone "I have been blessed to know you grow from a spoiled boy dreaming of glory to gallant young man respected by wildlings and the Night's Watch alike." That wasn't entirely true, both were still angry at him for fighting the Mountain and Mallister showed visible disappointment when he returned from his first foray back out to report that Thoros, one of their best fighters, had died.

"You are needed here - heart, body and soul. Many lives depend on you."

"There are others" Jon mumbled under his breath. Dondarrion. Satin. Sam.

"Your family?" Aemon asked, mistaking his meaning "We all have families. The last of mine is a young woman whom I have never met, living thousands of miles away under siege. It is a daily struggle not to think of her, a daily failure. But I cannot dwell on her suffering or I will not be able to do my duty for love is the death of duty."

"Love is the formation of duty." Jon argued "Why do we suffer at the end of the world if not to protect those that we love? Do you mean to say that you would carry on guarding the realm even if there was no one left in it? You may not know anyone left in Westeros but you must love the people in order to stay."

The old Maester pondered "I suppose that is true. But then the men of the Night's Watch must love all mankind equally."

"That's easier said than done" Jon replied. "My father is in prison, my little brothers are hostages, my sis…" He stopped, gulped and plowed on "My sister Sansa is a hostage."

"And they may all be dead before winter is out if the Others cross the Wall." Aemon warned "Robb Stark will fight for your family and he wages war as well as any commander. One more man added to his ranks will make no difference. But you will make a difference _here_ , you will make a difference if your body, soul and heart are _here_. To protect your family you must forget them."

But Jon didn't see how he possibly could forget Sansa. He had tried, oh how he had tried, for the sake of her honour and his. He told himself not to think of how her head felt rested on his shoulder, her soft hair brushing up against his jaw. He tried not to remember how small her waist was in his hands or the way her delicate fingers moved practiced and nimbly over a piece of sewing and he tried not to think of how they might feel undoing the buttons of his jerkin, how they might feel on his skin.

But he was a bastard, born of lust and his blood was sinful. It cared nothing for the laws of Gods and decent men but thrummed late at night when Sansa came to him in his dreams.

Jon felt guilty for the way Aemon, Val and Mance spoke of him, as though he was some great leader. What would they say if they knew how when he was weak he took himself in his hand at the thought of his half-sister.

What would Sansa say?

She probably hated him anyway. Now that he thought about it, he was surprised she hadn't run to Lord Stark after he had mauled her in that tent and had him killed. A downpour of shame flooded Jon as he realised Sansa was probably too ashamed, too frightened of what else people would say if they knew that her own half brother lusted after her.

_But it felt like she kissed me back._

No. Maester Aemon was right. Jon would think of her no more, Sansa deserved at least that much. He would read Maester Sarwyn's descriptions of tree gout in the Gift from two hundred years ago to get himself to sleep if he had to.

The sound of a horn being blown from up above broke his thoughts. Jon and Aemon stilled as they waited for two more blasts, they exhaled when none followed.

"I wonder who that is" he murmured, try to think who else was out beyond the Wall.

"Maybe it's young Grenn and Edd Tollet" offered up the Maester.

Jon leapt up from the table, and with promises to return shortly to Maester Aemon, bounded out of the library to see what was going on.

When he arrived in the courtyard he found it full of people, his brothers stood at the edges and leant over the rails of the walkways to observe a company of knights that had just ridden in. Southron knights with shields of bronze buckles, yellow suns, crescent moons and golden cranes. What could they be here for...were they driven here by Sansa's letters?

But no...Was that a woman amongst them? Jon couldn't help but stare, she was dressed in full body armor and looked taller and stronger than any other of her male fellows.

A young knight with flowing black hair and glistening enameled green armor dismounted a large white destrier and presented himself as the commander of the group. "I am looking for Jon Snow" He announced striding forwards.

"I am Jon Snow" Jon answered and took a step forwards to distinguish himself from his brothers, who were eying the fancy southron knights with great suspicion.

The green armored knight split into a happy easy grin. He approached Jon and grasped his hand, shaking it heartily.

"Jon Snow...In the name of King Robert Baratheon…" He heard the sound of steel but before Jon could move a dagger was plunged into his gut "...I sentence you to die."

Somewhere in the distance he thought he heard the shouts of angry men and clashes of steel but it was muffled, like voices from underneath a pillow.

He felt no pain, just the thud as his knees hit the ground and the cold of the snow as his body sank down onto it. His last thoughts were of the feel Sansa's dark red hair slipping through his fingers and her vivid blue eyes as blue as the forget-me-nots on the banks of a Frostfang stream.

**Sansa**

She soared over the Sunset Sea which shimmered like molten gold beneath her. The boats below were like tiny toys, bobbing on waves that appeared like mere ripples from this height. The wind battered at her wings, the robin, whose body she shared, resisted, it was not used to flying this high or this far out to sea and the strong air currents tossed and whipped it about like a speck of dust. It wanted to go back.

Sansa didn't care, she forced the bird fly on. She didn't care if she never saw land again, she didn't care if she died out here. Bran was dead...Jon was dead...what was the point of it all. On the rare occasions that she could not escape to the mind of a nearby bird, she gazed at the nearest window to her in Casterly Rock and wondered what it would be like if she threw herself out of it and dashed her body on the rocks below.

A strong gust of wind knocked her sideways and she found herself falling, tumbling towards glittering ocean below. The water neared faster and faster. Robins could not swim and she would die.

Sansa felt an sudden shock of fright and swiftly her own eyelids were blinking rapidly and she lay in her bed in Casterly Rock, staring up at the canopy. Her eyes were tired and red.

It was her fault. She had had those vile thoughts about Jon and now the Gods had taken him from her. His body lay in a frozen grave because of her.

It was her fault, her punishment.

The door to her chambers banged open and Kitty swept in "Oh good, you're awake. Come you need to get dressed, they are coming up the Rock now and will be here shortly." She began to rifle through Sansa's wardrobe.

"I don't care" Sansa murmured into her pillow, she had not left her bed since she had heard about Jon and Bran. She ate very little, she barely slept, all she did was slip into the minds of birds to try and forget the pain.

"The Queen will be angry if you are not there to greet her."

"Then the Queen can have me whipped" Sansa answered with bite.

Kitty gave a long suffering sigh "My brother died too."

"What?" Sansa sat up, she had not expected such a statement and narrowed her eyes in suspicion "When?"

"Years ago when I was just a girl living in Lannisport. He was three when he died, he had the coughing sickness" Kitty said and there was sadness in her eyes.

Sansa wondered if the girl was trying to endear herself to Sansa. For what purpose? To get her out of bed? She could have had Ser Benedict Broom come in and drag Sansa out.

"My other brother, Denny, has the sickness too but he won't die, gods willing. He and my mother live at Casterly Rock now and Maester Creylen gives him potions to help his breathing."

"If you think that excuses the things you have done…"

Kitty huffed "I just meant that life goes on. Nothing is ever as hopeless as it seems. You have other family."

"Yes I have another brother too, maybe he'll come here with his army and gift me a row of Lannister heads." Sansa suggested sweetly.

Kitty's jaw ticked "Because you are grieving I won't tell Lord Tywin you said that. Others will not be so kind" She picked a red and gold dress from Sansa's wardrobe "You are supposed to be a sensible girl so act like it."

Half an hour later, Kitty deemed Sansa presentable enough and the pair were hurrying down the spiral staircase in the tower that housed her in an effort to beat the Queen and her sons to the courtyard. For all that she wanted to snub Cersei, for all that she _never_ wanted to see Prince Joffrey again, in the end Sansa had balked at the idea of getting whipped.

"Why are they coming here?" Sansa asked Kitty, panting from the running "I would have thought King Robert would want his heirs close to him at a time of war."

Kitty stopped short "You don't know" then she muttered to herself "Of course you don't know" Then in the prim voice she used when speaking to Lannisters who weren’t Sansa said "Robert Baratheon is no longer King. He has gone mad and claimed that Joffrey and Tommen are not his sons by blood." Sansa's eyes widened considerably and Kitty continued in the formal, rehearsed tone "It is a filthy, baseless lie. Joffrey is King now, he will take his throne from Casterly Rock."

A deep pit of terror formed in Sansa's stomach and she was taken aback, surprised at how much she could still feel. She wanted to run back up to her tower, but Kitty, who sensed her hesitance, grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her forwards.

The entire household had gathered in the courtyard to greet their new 'King' and even Lady Genna's husband looked clean and sober for the occasion. The gates opened, a trumpeter sounded and the Frey boys stood up on their tip toes, craning their heads for a better look.

Sansa expected a hundred knights on horses, she expected drummers, pikemen and wagons carrying trunks of garments and chests of gold. Instead one lone rickety wheelhouse trundled through the gates of Casterly Rock accompanied by three bedraggled knights on horseback.

They'd fled, Sansa realised. Likely with little more than the clothes on their back. Robert wanted them dead and they must have barely escaped Kings Landing with their lives. Joffrey was no more a King than Ser Emmon Frey.

Sansa recognized the three knights , Ser Meryn Trant, Ser Mandon Moore and Bronn. All traitors to their former masters. Trant hopped down from his horse and opened the wheelhouse door. Cersei came out, her hair was loose and she looked irritable as though she had gone the entire trip without a ladies maid. Tommen looked tired and ready cry while Joffrey appeared disheveled and angry.

The household of Casterly Rock fell to their knees and Sansa bowed to the creature who murdered Bran, who had probably given the order for Jon's death as well.

"Casterly Rock is yours, your grace" Lady Frey said

Briefly, Sansa wondered where Ser Jaime Lannister was.

* * *

That night Casterly Rock feasted 'King' Joffrey. Despite the hasty arrival of Cersei and her sons, Lady Genna laid out an impressive banquet of stuffed swans, salmon soaked in lemon, sugared plums, venison, duck pie, peach tart, cheeses, strawberries and oranges, all washed down with bottles of Arbor Gold and Arbor Red while a mummer's company entertained them.

Sansa watched the show and was reminded of poor Myrcella who had so loved to put on plays. She remembered the play Myrcella had planned to put on at Winterfell and how she was to play the Lady of the Moon whom Jon, as the Cloud God would carry off in his arms. Sansa felt a sharp stab of sorrow at the memory of being in Jon's arms.

The sorrow was soon soaked up by guilt. It was her fault that Jon and Bran were dead while she ate Dornish grapes in the Banquet Hall of Casterly Rock. She was both glad to be out of her tower room, easing her aching stomach and desperate to run back to her chambers, shelter in her bed and dive into the mind of some bird with wings that could fly away from this wretched place and Sansa's wretched life.

Nobody paid much attention to her apart from Joffrey. He kept making signs of wanting to talk to her but nobles from Lannisport had come to the Castle for the feast and he was forced to accept each of their tributes. Sansa looked down at the lower tables, searching for Kitty and saw that she really was sitting with a middle aged woman and a little boy. The boy had Kitty's straw like hair and he was talking excitedly about something, waving his arms in gesticulation, he reminded Sansa of Rickon. She had heard no word of Rickon but she assumed he must be a hostage along with their father. Her eyes pricked when she thought how lost he must be without Bran.

Then something else caught her eye as she noticed Bronn exiting the hall through the glass doors to the balcony that ran along the east side of the banquet hall. Sansa got up and followed him.

The night air smelt fresh and was cool against her skin, winter's true iciness was kept away by large black marble bowls holding fire that were stationed every few feet along the balcony.

Bronn was leaning on the railing, staring out at the black shapes of the Sterling Mountains, further along a young couple stood close to one another in hushed giggles.

"How big was the castle that Cersei has promised you this time?" Sansa asked, coming to stand next to the sellsword.

Bronn chuckled wryly "More fool me that I'm getting no castle out of this" he said bitterly.

Sansa frowned in disbelief "Then, why would you defy the King and risk your life for them?"

"Is it risking my life?" Bronn asked "As far I can see there are three men fighting this war; Robert Baratheon, Robb Stark and Tywin Lannister. You know them as well as I, who's your money on?"

Sansa swallowed uncomfortably "Robb is a great fighter. They named him the Young Wolf in the War Beyond the Wall, he defeated fifty thousand wildlings with…"

"I know the stories and I know your brother, not much but I've seen enough of him to work him out and he's no Tywin Lannister."

"Tywin Lannister wasn't Tywin Lannister when he was twenty either."

"Aye but Robb Stark _is_ twenty, isn't he? As for me, I'd quite like to live to forty."

"That will be difficult when the Lannisters give you a company of men to lead and send you off to war" Sansa said, then she lowered her voice even though she was sure the kissing couple were too far away to hear "What if you could avoid the war all together? Live out your days peacefully in the warm climates of Dorne with a young wife and your own castle?"

Bronn scoffed "And how am I going to get some highborn lass to think wedding me is a...oh I get it, you'll arrange the match."

Sansa nodded "Lady Jynessa of Blackmont is looking for a hero to rescue her from the attentions of Ser Gerold Dayne. If I write a letter of recommendation then she will accept you. Of course you'll have to help me escape first."

Bronn laughed derisively "That sounds like a good way to come down with 'sword in the chest'".

"How can you stand this?" Sansa hissed "How can you serve the Lannisters and bow to Joffrey after all they've done? They tried to kill Tyrion even though they knew he was innocent. Have you forgotten what happened to Podrick?"

Bronn's head snapped towards her and for the first time he looked genuinely cross, Sansa didn't think she had every seen him truly angry before "No I have not forgotten" he hissed "I never forgot what happened to that poor boy, even when you and his lordship were making plans to merrily jaunt around the Free Cities. But it's over now, the boy's dead and the brat that killed him will escape justice no matter what."

And then she understood. Sansa stepped back with a gasp _"It was you._ " She whispered "You were the one who tried to murder Joffrey, you killed Mrycella."

There was a hint of alarm in Bronn's eyes and he glanced over the balcony, as though to flee or push Sansa over the edge.

_"How could you?"_

"It was a bloody accident alright. How was I supposed to know she would drink her brother's cup."

"You put the poison in Tyrion's rooms."

"Not by choice. I didn't want to frame him, his rooms were the closest that's all." Bronn protested, and there was a hint of guilt in his eyes.

"And your own life is more important than anything else" Sansa concluded coldly.

"Aye, it is. Folks like me and Pod don't have famous brothers who will fight for us or rich fathers with armies at their beck and call. We have to look after ourselves even if it is at the expense of someone else."

"So look after yourself, help me escape or I'll tell Cersei that you killed Myrcella" Sansa threatened although she doubted the Queen would believe her "Help me escape and I'll give you Lady Jynessa and Blackmont Castle. Then when the war is over I'll get my _rich father_ to give you your weight in gold."

The cut throat chortled "If Lord Stark had any gold you wouldn't be here in the first place."

Sansa huffed and turned away, she glared at him from the corner of her eye but didn't say anything. Instead she watched as snowflakes started to fall gently out of the sky and the amorous couple retreated inside.

"Where is Ser Jaime anyway?" she wondered aloud.

"Didn't you hear?" Bronn smirked "The Kingslayer tucked tail and ran off. Reckon your little brother's execution was the last straw. He helped your father escape too while he was at it. They'll be almost at Riverrun by now."

**Ned**

Lord Varys only confessed the truth about Ned's sons half way across the Narrow Sea. Perhaps he hoped Ned would use the remainder of his time locked in a wooden crate to come to terms and make peace with the murder of Jon and Bran, perhaps he realised that Ned would slice him in two for luring him into the crate with the promise that Bran and Rickon were already on the boat.

_Promise me, Ned._

He shouted and tried to break out of his crate, punching the thick wooden walls until his fists bled with splinters. His food was reduced and by the time they docked he was too weak to make the crate so much as wobble.

It became soon clear that they weren’t in White Harbour. The air was warm, the tongues were foreign and the scents that wafted through the gaps of Ned's crate were unfamiliar and tinged with exotic spices. They were somewhere in the Free Cities, somewhere in the south.

Ned's tired body was knocked and jostled about as his crate was unloaded and placed on a cart. As the cart trundled along cobbled streets, the crate vibrated and Ned braced himself against the sides trying to stop his head banging against the roof.

The cart stopped and started several times and after about an hour it reached the end of its journey and Ned's crate was pushed and pulled by human hands. He heard scraps of conversation but was only able to make out 'sun room' from his poor understanding of Bastard Valyrian.

At long last the crate roof was pried open and bright white light blinded Ned as the sides fell outwards to the floor. Two shadowy silhouettes appeared above him.

"Gods, you look awful."

Ned blinked frantically as the blurred images became clearer and he made out the two men above him. As he expected, one was the Kingslayer, he was as unshaven, dirty and disheveled as Ned after their journey but he looked far healthier. Varys had not cut his food.

"W...Where's the Spider?" He croaked, his voice sounding feeble to his own ears.

"Alas my old friend could not stay, he is needed in Westeros and has returned post haste." The other man said. He was a stranger to Ned, a Pentoshi with an oil forked beard and slicked back hair. He wore rich robes of a shimmering purple over a frame so large it made Lord Manderly look like a starving wildling.

Ser Jaime pulled Ned to his feet, his legs buckled and he was steered into a cushioned seat. He glanced around and saw that he was on a large white marble balcony overlooking lush green gardens that were even larger and more elaborate than the Red Keep's, with arches made of yellow roses, hedge mazes, neatly trimmed topiary, fountains and statues made of white marble and flowers and plants of every colour and description Ned could think of. Surrounding the gardens were brick walls twelve feet high with iron spikes atop and beyond that lay the waters of the Bay of Pentos that faded into the bright blue sky, in the distance Ned could see the ships and piers that made up the port on the other side of the city.

"I need...I need to go back" Ned said trying to stand. Jaime grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back down into his seat "Robb...Cat...they need me."

"Not like this they don't. At least eat first" Jaime said, on the table before them were jugs of wine, piles of cakes and platters of exotic fruit.

"Your son appears to be doing quite well on his own" The Pentoshi man observed, taking a seat at the table as well "He has already won two battles and along with the Riverlands he occupies half of the Westerlands. I shouldn't be surprised if Casterly Rock were to fall shortly."

Ned looked to the Kingslayer and found that he barely blinked at the news. He truly had turned back on his family it seemed. Good, Ned would feel less guilty about killing them all.

_Promise me, Ned._

Robb was only a boy, it was one thing to fight wildlings in the snow, another to take on Tywin Lannister and Robert Baratheon.

"Who are you my lord?"

The Pentoshi smiled "I am no lord, merely a merchant by the name of Illyrio Mopatis."

Oh, one of those merchant princes of the Free Cities who were said to be richer than many a true prince, Ned had heard of them, he had heard they cared nothing for honour or tradition and only sought coin. His stomach grumbled and panged so to silence it he grabbed a loaf of sweet bread and tore into roughly.

Mopatis winced and his eyes looked pointedly at the row of little silver knives at the side of Ned's plate. Ned ignored the inference.

"I thank you for your hospitality Master Illyrio" Ned said with very little sincerity "But I must return home. My family needs my help. My murdered sons need justice."

"But Jon Snow was not your son was he?" Mopatis commented.

Ned snapped a glare to Lannister who held up his hands "Don't look at me, the Spider has ears in the wall."

"You are his friend?" He asked the merchant.

Mopatis nodded "Lord Varys is as dear to me as any. He helped me build this" He gestured to the extravagant manse around them "He should be dear to you, for he saved your life."

"He deceived me. He brought me hear under trickery and by doing so he denies me justice."

"But you can get justice here" Motapis exclaimed "For your slain son, for your daughter in chains...for Prince Rhaegar and his children."

At this Ser Jaime stopped eating and became visibly interested "How?"

"For all the ancient nobility in your blood, you are still but two men, two rather old men if you'll excuse me. Your presence, alone, in Westeros will make very difference to the war there."

"My son needs guidance, my wife needs comfort, what do you propose that could be of more use than that?" Ned demanded.

"Fire and blood" Mopatis answered simply "Travel east, bring Daenerys Targaryen, her armies and her three dragons back to Westeros and then you shall have justice my friends."

**Sam**

The rookery was dominated by a horrible smell of bird droppings and bags of mouldy grain that were too disgusting for the even hungry men of the Watch to touch. Sam sat on the floor, hidden among the cages, the scratching of his quill was shrouded by the occasional caw of the ravens and the low thrum of rattling cages when they walked or flapped, knocking their iron bars.

Sam normally did this work in the library, reading the letters out to Maester Aemon once after he had deciphered them but he worried that if he spoke allowed right now then he might burst into blubbering messy tears. He had been descending the Wall in the iron cage, after a long stretch of watch duty, when it had happened. He saw the strangers in the courtyard in their rainbow coloured armour and bright sigels, he even recognised a few of them - Ser Emmon Guy, Ser Parmen Crane...Lord Renly. He'd met Renly Baratheon at a tourney in celebration of Lord Meadow's wedding many years ago. The prince had been kind to Sam, he'd listened patiently to him enthuse about Maester Alfador's works on the natural sciences and even asked questions as though interested to hear more.

Sam remembered the blood soaked snow and the light disappearing from Jon's eyes. He remembered an anger taking over him that he had never experienced before as he joined his brothers in the fray to take on the southron knights. Renly's men had better armour but they were men of court while the Night's Watch were war hardy and fought with rage in their hearts. They'd killed most of them, even Sam had brought down Ser Emmon Guy (with the help of Beric and Black Jack). They didn't get Lord Renly though, he and a few of the others had escaped.

Bowen Marsh said it was for the best, that avenging Jon wasn't worth bringing down the might of Robert Baratheon on their heads. Sam didn't care, he hated the King.

He hated him for killing Jon, he hated him for ignoring the Others and he hated that the man would soon be his goodbrother.

War was a time for weddings. Alliances had to be forged and a spate or ravens had arrived at Casterly Rock proclaiming the betrothals far and wide. Joffrey Baratheon was to wed Margaery Tyrell, Robb Stark was betrothed to a Frey girl while the high septon himself had annulled Robert Baratheon's marriage to the Queen Cersei and he was now betrothed to Lady Talla Tarly.

It was an unusually shrewd move on King Robert's part, everyone knew that Sam's father held the military skill of the Reach and by naming Randyll Tarly the new Lord of Highgarden (even if the castle was still occupied by the Tyrells) Robert had gained a powerful general and almost half the houses in the Reach.

Randyll Tarly had risen high in the world and it was his daughter who would pay the price.

Sam thought the betrothal might have been the worst thing his father had ever done. He prayed for Talla nightly and bemoaned his father for not just letting her marry hapless, young Symon Fossoway of Cider Hall.

The ravens started rustling in their cages and a few cawed out as Pyp entered.

"It's time" He said.

As with fallen brothers before him they'd built a large pyre for Jon in the courtyard at Castle Black. It had been half a moon since he'd been killed but snow storms had delayed his burning so they'd kept his body fresh in one of the ice cells. Sam thought his friend looked as though he were sleeping and he almost expected him to snore at any moment. He let out an involuntary giggle attracting odd looks from Beric and Pyp who stood by him. The giggle broke into a sob and he wished he were on Skagos holding Gilly tight.

"You'll never catch me wanting to be a highborn, never" Pyp murmured "Look what they do to one another"

Even their friends, the whole realm knew King Robert and Lord Stark had once been the best of friends but no one knew why that friendship had suddenly and brutally snapped.

"Jon wasn't highborn, he was a bastard" Ser Beric said "Why would you kill a bastard serving in the Night's Watch? At the most he might make a decent hostage but what good is he dead?"

"No good" Sam said, his voice cracked "He's no good dead."

It was only a few hours after noon and already the sun was beginning to fall casting violent streaks of dark red and burnt oranges across a blackening sky. The courtyard began to fill with more and more brothers, the old men who worked in the kitchens, the rangers who hunted, the boys who cleaned the barracks, they all filed out with solemn faces. A hush filled the yard as the door to Mallister's quarters opened and the Lord Commander descended down a wooden staircase outside, every creaked filled step echoing round the compound.

Lord Denys Mallister had a similar look as the late Lord Mormont with a bald head, deeply lined, stern face and a long white beard. He was a man of honour and tradition who held the customs and history of the Night's Watch close to his heart. He respected Jon but he didn't like him, he thought wildlings were for killing not saving and was furious when he had heard that Jon had fought for his goodbrother in a trial by combat at Winterfell. He had been more furious when southroners had come to Castle Black to kill Jon.

"His name was Jon Snow. He came from Winterfell a boy and grew into a man here at Castle Black." Mallister began in a deep booming voice "He didn't have to come, he was the natural born son of Eddard Stark, Warden of the North and could have lived out his days in sloth and frivolity but he came anyway. Jon Snow had dreamed of becoming a ranger all his life, of protecting the realm and so he did. He spied on wildlings and fought against them in the Battle of Castle Black, the Battle of Hardhome and the Battle of Craster's Keep"

He hadn't, Jon had told Sam that he'd hid in a tent with Dalla and helped her give birth near Craster's Keep. Then he'd helped Mance escape.

At Hardhome they had fought together against the dead.

"He saved Lord Mormont's life and in return Mormont gave him his ancestral Valyrian blade, Longclaw. Most men would have treasured such a gift to the end of their days but not Snow. He sold it and gave the profit to his brothers so we might all have enough food to last the winter."

Many of the men nodded and a few clapped.

"I didn't always agree with Snow but no man was braver nor nobler. He held a fire within him that was devoted to the brotherhood of Night's Watch and our protection of the realm. And now that fire has gone out. And now his watch is ended."

"And now his watch is ended" Sam and his brothers repeated.

"We shall never see his like again." Mallister concluded. His steward handed him a lit torch and he silently circled the pyre lighting the logs of oak and branches of pine at various places before standing back.

Sam forced himself to watch as the flames danced along the pyre, licking higher and higher. He didn't want to watch Jon burn but he had to, Jon would have stood in respect at his funeral. He pitied that Jon's body could not have been sent back to Winterfell, that his bones could not have rested in the crypts with the remains of long dead Kings of Winter.

Plumes of black smoke rose in the sky and next to him, Pyp looked down at the ground. Sam saw the flames growing larger, he felt their heat but he barely took them in. He felt dazed and he tried to remember a happy memory of Jon. A year ago when food had been scare, Marsh had somehow managed to get his hands on a large jar of cherries, they had cherry cake for dinner that night and Jon had grinned widely at the sight of his favourite food.

"That's...what the Stranger..." Beric murmured.

Sam snapped out of his memories and looked properly. He elbowed Pyp.

"I don't want to see" Pyp whispered, Sam elbowed him again and he looked up "Oh"

The fire was beginning to die down now and the pyre was burnt through. The flames were getting smaller until they were barely two hands high and dotted sporadically amongst the pile of blackened charcoal, but Jon…

Jon still lay onto of the pyre. His clothes had been burnt away but his naked skin was left white and untouched, you couldn't even see the fatal wound from Renly's dagger.

"Seven hells" whispered Black Jack Bulwer.

The rest of men watched with wide eyes and open mouths as slowly Jon Snow sat up, rising once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a very busy chapter, I hope you will forgive me for the tumultuous events. Please let me know what you think (both positive and negative criticism welcome. Next up things will calm down a little and there will be a wedding.
> 
> P.S. One of the things that slightly irritates me about GoT/ASOIAF is how little agency or depth the smallfolk characters are given despite the series being a criticism of feudalism. I'm afraid I haven’t done much better with this story, although with this chapter I hope I've given a bit more depth to Bronn and Kitty, who are not just pawns/weapons/servants but people in their own right with thoughts, feelings and loyalties of their own.


	21. The lions still have claws

**Jon**

Sam was standing far closer to him than Jon felt entirely comfortable with.

"What colour are his eyes?" Mallister demanded from the doorway, he did not actually dare to step foot in the chamber.

"One would suppose they are the same colour they were yesterday, and the day before that" Maester Aemon remarked from the corner of the room.

Sam's clammy fingers pried Jon's eyelids wide apart "They're dark grey, almost black looking."

"Have they always been grey?" Bowen Marsh enquired, also loitering in the doorway. "Were they grey... _before?_ "

"I don't know" Sam shrugged "I'm never noticed his eye colour before."

"Aye, my eyes have always been grey" Jon snapped, he was fed up of these daily examinations, fed up of the rest of them talking about him like he wasn't there.

"They are not blue, we only need fear eyes of blue." Aemon interjected.

"Could it be necromancy?" Marsh wondered to the Lord Commander "Maybe something he learned of Mance Rayder?" He had been even more suspicious of Jon's affinity with the wildlings than Mallister.

"No, he can talk, Rayder's corpses couldn't talk." Mallister replied.

"No wight can talk" the Maester proclaimed "Whatever brought Jon back from the dead wasn't the magic of necromancy or the Others."

"Maybe he wasn't dead at all?" Sam suggested.

"He took a sword through the chest, we burned him." Marsh exclaimed "If that doesn't kill a man then what will?"

"But Jon says he saw nothing. If he did die then wouldn't he have seen one of the seven heavens, or the seven hells or the Great Weirwood Grove of the Old Gods?"

Mallister's head snapped towards him "Is this true Snow? Did you really see nothing?" His voice was as demanding as usual but Jon could almost hear a hint of pleading in it.

He shook his head "Only blackness" The last thing Jon remembered was Renly Baratheon stepping towards him in his gleaming green armour, a glimmer of bold duty in his eyes. Then nothing. He didn't even remember stepping off his funeral pyre, although Sam and Pyp have told him the story half a hundred times. He'd come to in the chambers in the King's Tower with Sam and Maester Aemon prodding him into consciousness.

Mallister and Marsh looked oddly bereft when they heard Jon's answer and there was an emptiness and fear in their eyes, even the old Maester had silenced when he'd heard. Did men fear death more as they aged and neared it? It was an uncomfortable thought.

For a long time after the Battle of Castle Black Jon thought he didn't fear death anymore, he'd taken Ygritte's body beyond the Wall and burned it himself. Part of him wanted to climb on that pyre and go to sleep along side her but he knew that if he were to die it should be in the service of something greater than his own misery.

Something changed when he fought the Mountain though. He remembered looking up into the stands and being able to make out droplets glistening on delicate eyelashes. A pale heart shaped face and soft red lips twisted in worry.

_I don't want to leave her_ Jon had thought then.

He remembered feeling soft hair running through his fingers when he died, but how could that be when she was thousands of miles away.

Eventually Mallister was forced to admit that whilst none of them knew what exactly Jon was, he didn't appear to be dangerous so the Lord Commander granted him leave to move about Castle Black as he wished and to return to his normal duties.

When the others had gone Jon watched Sam pack up his various healing instruments, small jars of ointments, little silver knives and tweezers, a pair of bronze forceps, a tiny Myrish lens that could be held in the muscles around the eye and put them into a tattered leather bag. Outside a light hail pattered softly against the windows that belied a dull grey sky and the barren moors of the Gift beyond.

Maester Aemon sat by the fire, they always put the Maester by the fire, and he stretched out a gnarled, liver spotted hand to warm it against the crackling flames.

In a wistful voice the old man said "Fire is a strange and beautiful thing, some flames if gives us life and light and warmth whilst others bring only death and destruction. We worshipped it as young boys, the Lady Shiera used to tell us stories of Old Valyria, how dragons and chimeras were wrought in the flames of burning mountains. She told us that those flames could bring life to those once lost, how they could hatch a dragon…"

"I'm not a dragon." Jon tried to say kindly.

"Aren’t you? You don't know who your mother was, who her parents were. There are a great many Targaryen bastards littered over this seven kingdoms, my great-grandfather sired enough to start to several rebellions and they say that King Aerys was not always faithful to his Queen."

"Aye but what are the chances my father would happen upon a Targaryen bastard on the River Honeywine living as some innkeep's daughter?" Jon asked sceptically. "I'm not a dragon, I'm the get of Lord Stark and some peasant woman."

Maester Aemon smiled "Believe as you will young Snow" and he stood up, taking his walking stick and hobbled out the room.

"What?" Jon asked noticing Sam's thoughtful expression "You don't believe him do you?"

Sam shrugged as he finished packing his instruments away "If your mother was a Targaryen bastard, or the descendant of one, it would explain why Lord Stark was so reticent about revealing her identity to you."

"My father didn't tell me anything because he was ashamed of having broken his marriage vows. I'm the sole great stain on the honour of Eddard Stark, remember" He hated the words as soon as they came out of his mouth, he thought he was past shame and regret but he still sounded like a whiny ten year old boy.

"Jon…"

"Anyway that doesn't matter" Jon tried to talk rationally "Maester Aemon's is a great man, a wise man but he's also old and alone and in want of a family, any family. The stories he heard were just stories. You and I and every castle raised boy in the land learned about the Tragedy of Summerhall, when King Aegon V tried to bring dragons back into the world by burning stone eggs and all he ended up doing was killing himself, his kingsguard and his son. Two Targaryens were burned that day and neither of them rose again."

"I suppose...but aren’t you curious? You were brought back from death, don't you want to know how that happened?"

Jon imagined he was probably the least curious man at Castle Black, some of them stared as though he were a mummer's attraction, others shied away like he was a monster whilst there were a few mortifying whispers that he was some kind of god. Sam seemed to view him as some sort of intriguing scientific dilemma while Beric claimed that the Red God of Lord Stannis and Thoros had brought him back to serve some noble purpose.

"I think if I start thinking about it too much I might go mad" Jon admitted quietly.

Sam nodded "Maybe its best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Speaking of gifts, do you want to see her now?"

Jon nodded, he put on his furs and Sam led him out of the King's Tower, past the whispering and wide eyed staring of the new recruits training in the yard and to the ice cells. These were carved inside the Wall itself, the sides were smooth and sweated under the glow of torches bracketed to the wall and carpets of old leather and fur had been put on the floors to stop men from slipping.

They walked past many that were empty until they reached a cell that held the woman.

She was the tallest woman Jon had seen south of the wall and there was very little femininity about her. Her frame was flat, muscular and awkward and she looked like she would be ungainly on her feet. She had a wide mouth and crooked nose that looked like it had been broken several times. Her sword had been taken away from her but she still wore bronze coloured armour emblazoned with the sun and moon sigel of House Tarth and around her armour she was wrapped in a large black bear skin. When she noticed Jon's arrival, she hastily threw off the skin and jumped to her feet.

"It's true, you really are… _alive_ " Lady Brienne gasped, she took him in with bulged eyes and a disbelieving face.

"Aye, I am" Jon interrupted, he was not keen to talk about his…death more and even less to do so with strangers "They told me that you returned to Castle Black voluntarily."

Tarth nodded "Honour compelled me."

Lord Mallister had said that she was Jon's to do with as he wanted. There were many at Castle Black who wanted him to execute her, not because they held a great love for Jon but because she had dared to conspire to slay a brother of the Night's Watch in cold blood.

"Why did Renly Baratheon want me dead?"

Tarth shook her head mournfully "I do not know. I didn't even know we were coming for you. Lord Renly told us there was a great danger that needed to be taken care of at the Wall and I supposed it to be Mance Rayder. After your de...after we fled Castle Black, I asked him why he had killed you, he again told me that it was his duty and you were a danger to the realm."

"But Jon's a bastard, he's sworn to the Night's Watch. He plays no part in the war between the Baratheons and the Starks." Sam argued.

"I know. I raised that with Renly, confident that he must have some better, nobler justification to execute a man of the Night's Watch but he gave me none" Lady Brienne said "At length I was forced to confront that we carried out the deed solely at the behest of King Robert and that his motives were ones of vengeance not of law or honour."

Jon frowned, that was not an answer, that was more questions "Why are the Baratheons vengeful, why does King Robert suddenly wage war on my father and his sons?"

"I could not tell you this either...only that there are rumours. It is claimed Lord Stark told the King that his children were bastards born of incest though why that would make him war against the Starks, I do not know."

Robert could not start a war against the North for that alone, surely? He, himself, had declared Prince Joffrey and Prince Tommen bastards and now waged war on them and the Lannisters. Why would he betray a friendship and alliance that had lasted decades all because it was Jon's father who broke the news of the Queen's sins?

Jon remembered the Ser Jaime Lannister telling him, that stormy night in a Wintertown brothel, that the Baratheons had Targaryen blood and all Targaryens went mad in the end. Then the Kingslayer had laughed and said "Only a depraved man would fuck his own sister."

_Did Lannister see something of his own depravity in me, is that why he watched me so closely?_

If she was his half sister then was he only half depraved?

Jon swallowed against a dry throat "Why did you return here?"

"Because I have done you a great wrong."

"You did nothing, it was the Lord of Storm's End who drove a sword through me."

"And I aided him, I was one of his guard" Lady Brienne said urgently "I have done you a terrible sin and honour now compels me to make amends."

"With your life?" Jon asked "What if I demanded you pay by the hangman's noose or the executioner's block."

Lady Brienne did not blink, she merely held her head high as if she had been expecting this possibility "Then I will walk to either gladly."

"No, you won't. You'll be terrified of death because death is a terrifying thing" Jon said "And I'll have no more of it than needed. You can repay me in another way."

"How my lord?"

"I'm not a lord" Jon replied "I want you to go south. My sister Sansa is kept hostage in Casterly Rock by the Lannisters. Rescue her, save her, bring her here, to me"

**Ned**

Illyrio Mopatis sent them down the Rhoyne in a ramshackle fishing boat in the company of three ghosts.

Their days were long and dull and their company was as awkward as the poorly put together boat. Jon Connington viewed both Ned and Jaime with deep suspicion and told them little of his plans and while Lady Ashara was pleased to see them both she addressed them as though they were still the green boys.

Ashara was still as beautiful as she once was, even after twenty years and dressed in unflattering septa's garb but Ned no longer spluttered and went red at the sight of her, in truth her presence only made him think of Catelyn.

Both Jon and his wife had once asked if Ashara Dayne was his bastard's mother and Ned knew that Cat still held those old suspicions. He felt guilty being on the same boat as Lady Dayne but mostly he felt guilt for still being in Essos. In Pentos, his body was weak but his blood was on fire and all he could think of was raining dragonfire down on those responsible for the deaths of Bran and Jon. Now the decision to go East seemed like a folly and a deep betrayal, there was no guarantee they would even reach Daenerys, that she would come with them, that she would not burn them on sight.

He had abandoned the family of his that still lived, family that was in desperate need for the sake of sons already under the earth. Robb fought a war, Sansa was a hostage whilst Arya and Rickon were out there, somewhere, who knew where. Cat would be all alone at Winterfell with their babe. He dreamed of her nightly, he dreamed that she wept believing he'd deserted her, he dreamed she was furious and that he would return to a wife with steel in her hand and ice in her heart.

_I must return._

"Do you believe it is really him?" Ned asked when Jaime came to sit by him at the ship's stern.

They had moored for the night in some shaded grassland in the middle of nowhere, _they were always in the middle of fucking nowhere_ , and the third ghost stood on the banks practicing his sword work with Ser Rolly Duckfield.

The boy who claimed to be Prince Aegon was polite, well spoken and full of young notions of chivalry and charity. He had been raised well, maybe it shouldn't matter who his parents were for he was like to make a good King. Except it did matter and if Ned had doubts then that was nothing to what the boy would face in Westeros.

Jaime shrugged and tore off a chunk of bread, handing it to Ned "Ashara swears he is, says she smuggled him out of Kings Landing herself. I don't see why she would lie but then you know her better than I."

"I barely know her at all" Ned said.

The Ashara he'd met at Harrenhall would never have gone along with a mummer's farce but much had happened since then. She had fallen in love with Brandon, watched him die in the Throne Room of the Red Keep. She'd carried Brandon's child and suffered through labour only for the tiny baby girl to come out into the world still and cold, and then Ned had delivered the sword and bones of her beloved brother to Starfall.

Maybe she desperately wanted to believe that this child was the child of her murdered friend and that her life still held purpose in protecting Elia's babe.

"He look's like Rhaegar in some lights, like Elia in others"

In truth Ned held little stock in Jaime's opinion. The Kingslayer had to believe that Young Griff was Aegon, his conscience was near shattered from the number of dead bodies on it and he was desperate to lighten the load.

And tanner's sons seemed to weigh less than princes.

After over a moon on the Rhoyne they finally reached Volon Therys, a walled town just north of Volantis where the Golden Company had set up camp. Ned had little respect for men who fought solely for gold but even he could not deny that they were a fine sight.

In a city of tents larger than Barrowton they watched as thousands of men in gleaming golden armour trained with the discipline that a Westerosi Lord would crave. There were elephants, horses and men of every colour; Westerosi knights, Dothraki exiles wielding curved arakhs, Summer Islanders with powerful bows shooting colourful arrows and even men from Yi Ti who guarded a strange kind of black powder that they claimed broke stone walls.

Ned's marvel of the spectacle of the Golden Company did not last long. Volon Therys was the first substantial trading city Ned had visited since Pentos and he hoped that they would have news from Westeros.

He soon found a customs official in the town who kept a record of the foreign news that passed through the city. Ned paid the man a purse full of silver to bereave him again.

The customs official told him that the Greyjoys had invaded the North, that Balon Greyjoy's son had taken Winterfell and murdered the youngest Stark child and the wildling prince.

Hosten, Ned's youngest babe.

_I should have killed Greyjoy when I had the chance_. Catelyn always said it was a mistake to bring him into their home, he wouldn't blame her if she wished that Ned was dead now as well.

_I've only ever tried to do right yet every decision I've made has caused my family nothing but suffering._

Ned sat out in the grasslands alone for hours after hearing the news, sunk in his own depression as he desperately remembered his last memories of Hosten and Mance Rayder's young son Dallan.

As the sun set and darkness closed in around him, the misery began to wash away instead to be replaced by rage.

He marched into Connington's tent where he found the lord patiently telling the young prince about the different commanders of the Golden Company.

"Lord Stark" Young Griff smiled on his entrance, he was older than Jon yet because he has seen so little of life that he seemed much younger "What do you think of the Golden Company? They are good are they not? Don't you think they will make a good wedding present."

Despite Connington's best efforts the boy seemed to like him. Ned suspected that was Ashara's influence.

"I think a ruler with three dragons has little use for armies, your namesake proved that when he conquered Westeros."

The Prince's face fell and Connington's jaw clenched "We have to bring her some sort of peace offering so that Daenerys doesn't see him as a threat."

"She may see him as a threat anyway" Ned replied "It was said a few years ago that Euron Greyjoy gathered a fleet of sellships and went to Meereen seeking a Dragon bride. When was the last time you heard of Euron Greyjoy?"

Connington remained silent but hatred burned in his eyes.

"But I need her to prove my legitimacy" Aegon protested "Griff and Lemore say that most of the lords won't believe I am who I say I am."

"When has legitimacy ever won thrones. You think Robert had legitimacy when he overthrew your family? You think Aegon the Conqueror had legitimacy when he took the Six Kingdoms? You think the first Valyrians had legitimacy when they seized lands across Essos and founded the Valyrian Freehold?" Ned asked, blood coursing through his veins "Legitimacy means nothing, law and honour mean nothing. Only swords and those bold enough to wield them matter in the game of thrones and you have ten thousand swords sitting out there right now" He pointed to the entrance of the tent.

"Your thinking is too rash Stark" Connington warned.

"And yours is too feeble" Ned shot back and he turned once more to Aegon "Do you want to be a King or hide behind your aunt's skirts. Westeros is at war, the time to strike is now. Take your sellswords west not east. Take what was stolen from you and repay your enemies with the same justice and mercy they showed you and yours."

**Sansa**

The Tyrells had arrived a moon ago, Lord Tywin had returned a fortnight after and more guests had been arriving since then. Casterly Rock was abuzz with activity in preparation for the wedding. Everywhere Sansa went she saw servants scrubbing windows, boys sweeping hearths and polishing marble, pages running back and forth with messages, maids carrying vases of golden roses and scarlet orchids placing them all round the keep to leave a sweet smelling fragrance.

The wedding feast and celebrations took place in Casterly Rock's step gardens, four tiers of garden separated by three short walled drops down which cascaded ivy and were linked by two winding staircases, one on each side of the gardens, made of a sand coloured marble. The gardens had been cleared of snow for the wedding and were green and lush with maple, pear and cherry trees that had been brought in especially and between which hung garlands of red, yellow and purple. On each tier's green lawn were scattered about twenty or so tables, covered in golden table cloths that boasted platters of stuffed swan, partridge pie and honeyed salmon. Sansa sat at the table on the top tier, with the rest of the Lannisters and Tyrells. From there they had the best view of the entertainment below; fire breathers, mummers, acrobats and jugglers as well as harpists that played haunting melodies and lutists who played jaunty jigs for the guests to dance to.

But Sansa cared little for the spectaculars, during the wedding her attention had been caught by the sword that hung at Lord Tywin's side. It was the first time she had seen her goodfather since he had returned from the fighting, and though it's pommel had been replaced as a gold lion and it had been sheathed in a fine case of black leather embossed with golden decorations, Sansa knew it was Longclaw.

Part of her burned at the thought of Lord Tywin touching Jon's sword, killing Stark bannermen with it yet another part of her was calmed that some small part of Jon lay close by. She tried not to wonder if he was wearing her shirt when he died.

"Yours is a broken heart" Lady Margaery...Queen Margaery said softly as she came to sit down beside her. The top table and many of those below it were largely empty now as the guests had gotten up to mingle or dance. Margaery looked at her kindly, other ladies of Sansa's acquaintance had shunned her knowing that she was now just a hostage as they did not wish to be tainted by association or looked upon with suspicion but Margaery hadn't cared for any of that. Since her arrival she had made time to talk to Sansa, not that Sansa was much in the mood for talking.

"I would soothe it if I could" The new Queen said taking Sansa's hand in her own.

Sansa looked sadly at her "You should not think of my wellbeing but of your own."

Margaery shook her head "Dearest, I am lucky enough that my brothers still live, no thanks to Robert Baratheon but…"

"You know that's not what I was talking of" Sansa said and she inclined her head down the garden to where the new King Joffrey was laughing manically as one of his Kings Guard forced wine down the throat of one of the fools.

"He's…" She stopped and looked around for eavesdroppers "I'm worried for you."

"You shouldn't be" Margaery said smiling like the sun "I know what I'm doing. My family arranged this match and they would never put me in danger."

Sansa had thought so too once and she feared that in Mace Tyrell's desire to grandfather a King he had neglected the safety of his daughter.

"Oh you look so troubled" Margaery laughed gaily "I suppose I would too in your situation but I believe the worst is over and the best is yet to come. I intend to be a very good Queen and whilst our families fight on different sides right now that may not always be the case. The wolves, roses and lions have a common enemy in the stags. Robert Baratheon invaded our home and almost killed Willas and we do not forget that it was your father who stopped him, we do not forget that Baratheon had your bastard brother murdered as well. Maybe one day we'll fight together against our common enemy."

Did she think that Sansa was in some sort of position to negotiate with Robb? She hadn't been allowed to speak to her brother since they said goodbye to one another in the courtyard of Winterfell.

"You forget that I had another brother, one who was executed in the Red Keep for treason" Sansa whispered "My traitor brother Robb would never ally himself with the prince that gave the order."

But Margaery shook her head "Life has a funny way of working things out dear Sansa. I truly believe all things will be well and I will do my best to make them so for I intend to be a very good Queen" Sansa wondered if her friend had not sipped too much Arbour Gold "Come let us not sulk up here, I want to see the acrobats."

Margaery looped her arm in Sansa's and together they descended into the party where they watched the acrobats summersault through the air, landing on one another to form a human pyramid. The guests gasped and clapped, Sansa spotted Ser Loras across the crowd, talking with one of the masked jugglers and noticed he did not appear to hold as much cheer as his sister or the rest of the Tyrells.

What must it be like to be caught between your lover and your family? He had chosen the Tyrells but maybe his heart still yearned for Renly. Sansa hoped it didn't, she liked Ser Loras but every night she prayed for Renly's death, she hoped Robb would be the one to do it and she dreamed of the two men meeting in battle and her brother avenging Jon by driving a dagger through Renly's throat.

Margaery was soon swept up in a dance and the ladies were separated for a time as Sansa was also obliged to dance with Lady Genna's second son Ser Lyonel. He had been responsible for Sansa's first grief at Casterly Rock when he had tried to touch Sansa and Lady had attacked him. Lady had died a sennight later. As they danced Ser Lyonel pressed her against his body so she could feel evidence of his arousal through his breeches. She felt sick and wished she could slip into a bird mid-dance and peck his eyes out.

After the dancing was over the ladies found one another again and Margaery announced that she was bored and wanted to go see the famed lions of Casterly Rock. Sansa readily agreed to this plan as it meant leaving the celebrations and she was interested to hear what Margaery had to say away from listening ears.

"It's funny I never dreamed I would get married at Casterly Rock" She commented idly as they strolled down one of the spiral staircases that descended from the Keep to the lion caves "I always thought I would be married at Highgarden amongst the roses with a crown of flowers on my head instead of one of gold."

Sansa was pretty sure that Margaery's dreams had always including a crown of gold and wedding in the Great Sept of Baelor rather than the one at Highgarden.

"Of course that's impossible now, much of the Reach is being churned up by Baratheon soldiers...no thanks to the Tarlys."

"Poor Talla" Sansa said mournfully "I fear she will not do well in Kings Landing."

Margaery sighed and shook her head "Her father was cruel as well as a traitor to arrange such a match. She is a sweet girl but she lacks the wits to manage such a husband as Robert Baratheon."

They arrived at the bottom of the staircase into a large cavern hollowed out of smooth black rock. A thin stone path ran from the base of the staircase alongside a wall of iron bars that contained the lions.

"Oh you can't see them very well can you?" Margaery pouted for the lions were lying sleepily towards the back of the cavern, almost fully concealed in the shadows.

"They are not very pleasant to look at up close" Sansa warned "They say lions are fierce and smart creatures but these ones have been caged underground all their lives. They have never seen the sunlight, never smelled the fresh air or walked on green grass. They look nothing like the lions you see in books, they are bony, pale creatures with large bald spots where they have torn the hair off one another."

Margaery's face fell in sadness.

"They were once fierce and cunning and now they are mere pets of the Lannisters."

But then Margaery's jaw ticked upwards "But do they still have claws like the song says?"

"Yes but Margaery…" Sansa sighed and she leaned close to whisper "I meant what I said, I'm worried for you, I don't think you understand quite what you have gotten into, Joffrey is…"

"I know what my husband is" Margaery whispered back "But you don't need to fear, I am not Talla Tarly, I know how to manage him."

But Sansa couldn't see how, to manipulate a man you had to know what he wanted and Joffrey didn't want anything except to inflict pain.

And her.

The sound of steps echoed around the cavern as someone came down the staircase.

_Pain and Sansa._

"Trust me" Margaery whispered in Sansa's ear as she felt her whole body start to tremble in fright.

"My lady, my Queen" a voice greeted as Joffrey appeared at the bottom of the staircase, behind him loomed Ser Meryn Trant in his clinking armour with his great sword at his side "Are the lions to your liking?"

"They are magnificent" Margaery beamed "Sansa was so kind to show me them."

"Yes...yes she was" Joffrey murmured looking Sansa up and down and licking his lips "But I fear you've been neglecting our guests. Your grandmother has been asking for you, she wants you to tell my mother about the seamstresses of Oldtown or some such rubbish. Will you attend to them whilst I have a private word with Sansa."

"Of course my love" Margaery smiled.

"No please…" Sansa whimpered grabbing the woman's hand as she made to leave, she felt the familiar sinking sensation of betrayal "I'll go too."

"No, you won't" Joffrey said with a cold smile "You will stay and talk to your beloved nephew."

Margaery unfurled Sansa's grip from her wrist, bade her one last look of false kindness, curtseyed to Joffrey and then ran up the stairs.

For a few moments Sansa, Joffrey and Trant all stood there in stillness. Sansa felt as though she were stuck to the floor, then suddenly she surged forwards making to run for the stairs. But she had barely taken two steps before Trant seized her round the middle, trapping her close in his grip.

"Margaery will make a wonderful Queen don't you think?" Joffrey asked her as he ripped off a pair of silk gloves his mother had given him for the wedding "She's already given me my favourite wedding present."

"No, please" Sansa begged, struggling to break free from Trant.

"Pin her to the ground" Joffrey ordered beginning to untie his breeches "They say grandfather wants to marry you to claim the North but you're mine. I've been waiting for this for four fucking years, he can have you once I'm through."

Sansa screamed and wailed hoping someone might hear her but they were too far underground. Trant pushed her to earth so she lay flat on her back with her arms pinned above her. Her legs were free though and she kicked and flailed about striking Joffrey on the nose.

"Fucking bitch" He hissed, grabbing her legs forcefully himself and prying them open. Sansa's eyes swum with tears and fear overtook her as she began to see things that weren’t real, the floating heads of animals danced about her in front of her eyes as Joffrey pushed down his breeches. The heads of a pig, a rat and a hawk. There was a flash of silver as one of the animals drew steel, then the others followed.

She was going mad, her mind was breaking.

Then she felt wet liquid fall on her and saw Joffrey's face break into fear as she looked up to see a blade piercing through the back of Ser Meryn's Trant's head and out through his mouth. Joffrey shouted out in fright and let go of Sansa and she rolled away before the bloody corpse could fall on top of her.

There was another flash of steel and the Hawk stabbed Joffrey through his shoulder. Dark red blood ran down his golden tunic as Joffrey crawled on the floor trying to get his sword but the assailant wearing the mask of the Rat stabbed his arm through his sword whilst the Pig pierced his shin.

There was a rumble from inside the cages, the lions had awoken.

Joffrey cried out in pain and shouted for the guards, for his mother and grandfather as the masked men hacked at his limbs. But no-one could hear him, they were too far underground. Sansa sat on the stony ground and watched him get paler and paler as each of his limbs was cut into and he tried to pull himself up from the growing puddles of blood.

The Hawk chucked a ring of keys at Sansa and cried "Open it"

Sansa caught the keys and stood on shaky legs, she stumbled towards the cage door, her hands trembling as she turned the key in the lock.

"No, please...please...I don't want to die" Joffrey begged as the Pig pulled him upright while the Rat and the Hawk dragged Trant's body between them. Sansa opened the cage wide, the lions had smelled blood, they were prowling towards them. Together the three assailants heaved and shoved Joffrey and Trant inside, slamming the door shut, before the beasts could pounce.

As Sansa locked the cage door once more, panting heavily, there were violent ripping sounds and screams as the lions tore into Joffrey, eating the first live meal of their lives. Sansa couldn't watch so she turned to face the wall, unable to block out the horrible sounds of the prince's death behind her.

The Hawk came up to her and rested a hand on her shoulder rubbing it reassuringly, "It'll be alright now, all will be well" She wished he was Jon but she knew he wasn't.

He pulled of his mask to reveal sandy hair, deep blue eyes and a kind smile "Harry" Sansa breathed hugging him tightly, crying into his colourful costume as he stroked her hair.

The Rat and the Pig unmasked as well to reveal Bronn and Ser Loras, they too were dressed as jugglers.

Harry pressed a gentle kiss to Sansa's lips and said "I told you we would be reunited my love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I was writing this I tried to come up with a name for my version of the Purple Wedding (there is no poison featured and therefore no purple face) but the best I could think of was the Furry Wedding, which is pretty rubbish. Let me know if you have an suggestions.
> 
> Thank you for all your comments so far. Please do let me know what you think of this chapter and the story so far. I know that some FF writers don't like negative criticism (fair enough) but I'll welcome anything that might make me a better writer.


	22. Solitary rounds amidst tangling walks and ruined grounds

**Sansa**

"I must go before I am missed" Loras Tyrell said, wiping his hands clean on a pocket handkerchief "Many of the guests are in their cups but it will only take one to notice that the King came down here and has not yet returned."

"We are grateful for however long you can delay any suspicions being raised" Harry said, clasping Loras's forearm in a show of thanks. His other arm was still round Sansa, she stood trembling, behind them she could hear the chomping of the lions' jaws and the breaking of bones. Joffrey's screams had stopped.

"May the gods be with you" the Knight of the Flowers said, he nodded to Harry and Bronn before kissing Sansa's hand "My lady, I trust you will remember Highgarden came to you in your hour of need."

"I...I will ser" Sansa stuttered, she could still see Joffrey above her, she could still feel Trant holding her down.

"Let's go" Bronn said once Ser Loras had donned his juggler's mask again and headed back up the stairs.

He led Harry and Sansa down further into the underground caverns of Casterly Rock, past old, disused storerooms and dungeons to the winding, stinking tunnels of the Casterly Rock sewers.

They walked in silence for what felt like hours until they emerged north of the castle on a windswept salty beach where Harry had left three horses and a welcome change of clothes waiting for them. They washed in the salt water and changed as the sun began to rise, Sansa looked at the looming vista of the Rock to the south, it was too far away to hear when the bells had rung but surely the Lannisters knew Joffrey was dead by now.

They rode throughout the day, journeying east through the forests of Sarsfield. Only when dusk began to fall and Harry and Sansa were close to falling out of their saddles did Bronn allow them to stop and rest.

"We'll go east, the River Road will be too closely watched so we'll make our way through the Sterling Mountains" Bronn said that evening as they ate by the fire. "The silver there dried up years ago and only goat herders live there now"

"It will take longer but we will reach Riverrun, I swear" Harry told Sansa, rubbing her hand in comfort.

Sansa nodded, she had barely spoken all day. Her eyes were heavy, but she dreaded going to sleep for fear that she would see Joffrey again, that she would hear his screams.

Bronn and Harry had brought two tents with them and after he had finished eating, Bronn retired to one of them noting with a smirk that they needed to leave early on the morn.

Harry sniggered once the sellsword was out of sight "I thought that he'd never leave" he said and he leaned down to kiss Sansa's neck. It felt different than before, his kisses felt too wet and her body felt cold "I've missed you so much" Harry murmured with a hooded gaze.

"No" Sansa said softly and she leaned away, gently pushing Harry's hand off her leg.

Harry frowned in confusion "What is it? What did I do?"

Sansa looked at him sadly "You used me as bait Harry."

His eyes widened "But…it was the only..."

"Please sleep in Bronn's tent tonight" She told him.

"Sansa, please...I'm sorry" He called after her.

* * *

The Sterling Mountains were a dangerous rocky terrain, full of sheer cliffs and deep crevices which were only hidden by the winter snows. They sneaked through the pine forests that wound their way through the mountain range like a collar around the neck of a white adder, conscious that to stray above or below the tree line would expose them, like dark marks on a white sheet, to eyes from miles around.

Sansa spent her days dreaming about seeing Robb and her mother again, even Jeyne Westerling (Robb may have been a fool for marrying her but there were far worse goodsisters to be had). The journey was achingly slow and was drawn out by the lack of occupation that was not sitting on a horse staring at the snowy peaks of the Westerland mountains. Sansa remained not overly keen on talking to Harry or Bronn, this appeared to suit Bronn well enough but Harry's mood quickly shifted from one of befuddlement to sulkiness. Something that was only worsened when she continued to banish him to share Bronn's tent with the sellsword.

"What if a mountain lion attacks you in the middle of the night?" He protested the third evening "What will you do then?"

"I'll imagine that I'll do the same as you - I'll scream." Sansa replied and her words seemed to put him in an even greater sulk.

The next day, while riding, Harry exclaimed "Aren’t you ever going to forgive me?"

"Maybe" Sansa murmured "When I have a Kingsguard hold you down because I need you to bait a monster"

The fire in Harry's blue eyes dimmed somewhat " _I am_ sorry" He said, he sounded genuine but then Harry always sounded genuine, he didn't have the wits to lie "It wasn't my idea to use you as bait. I just wanted to get you out of there but Bronn and Ser Loras insisted that Joffrey had to die and I needed their help."

Sansa narrowed her eyes "You needed their help or they needed yours?"

"What does that mean?"

"You expect me to believe that you came up with this escapade by yourself? Tell me the Tyrells didn't approach you." She demanded.

Harry opened and closed his mouth like a fish flopping about on a boat "I would have come for you anyway. I wanted to, I just...needed to work out how to do it." He admitted sheepishly.

Sansa glared at him and turned back to stare fixedly at the back of her horse's neck.

"I would have come, I promise" Harry repeated "I just didn't want to die, I'd be no good to you dead. Can't you forgive me, a little at least...I did rescue you."

But that's the problem, Harry rescued her.

And part of her could not forgive him for not being someone else.

It was horribly unfair of course and a year ago she would have swooned at the thought of Harry sneaking into Casterly Rock and snatching her from the claws of the Lannisters but it wasn't a year ago and so much had happened since then.

 _You are a fool Sansa Stark. You have a decent living man right beside you, one who loves you and risked his life for you and yet you shun him for the ghost of a twisted obsession that your dead bastard brother once stirred inside of you_.

"What did you promise the Tyrells?" Sansa tried to ask in a gentler tone "And don't say you didn't promise them anything because Highgarden is not that benevolent."

Harry swallowed "They want your brother to make peace with the Casterly Rock and form an alliance against King Robert."

"Yes, Margaery told me that." It might be doable with Joffrey dead and sweet Tommen now holding his claim. Tommen had done nothing to the Starks. But Sansa couldn't see Lord Tywin forgiving lords who had invaded the Westerlands. The Reynes, the Tarbecks, Sansa, Tyrion; Lord Tywin liked to make an example of those who defied his will.

"They also want me to negotiate a betrothal between Robin and Lady Elinor Tyrell. I'm to persuade Lady Arryn of the benefits of such a match."

"And I don't suppose you told them that Aunt Lysa would rather listen to the strangled screams of a dying fox than your dulcet tones."

Harry shrugged with a slight smirk "It didn't come up."

Sansa sighed, it was a good match, from what she could remember Lady Elinor had sense and that was in short supply at the Eyrie "I suppose we can ask my uncle Edmure for help. I think Lysa hates him less than most people."

As they left the Sterling Mountains and crossed into the Riverlands, they learned from travelling smallfolk that Edmure Tully was to marry and that he, his sister and his nephew were on their way to the Twins for the wedding. No-one seemed to know which Frey girl Sansa's uncle was to marry and Sansa feared that Lord Walder's revenge was to give his liege lord to Lady Amerei Frey, otherwise known as wild Gatehouse Ami, who was sure to put bastards in Riverrun.

As they travelled further into the icy Riverlands, Sansa was able to think about Jon less during the day. Harry knew she mourned her brothers and sought to distract her with jokes and gossip from the Vale and as a reward she let him sleep him in her tent.

But in the night she flinched from his touch and the Gods punished her by tormenting her with images of shaggy black hair, a long beautiful face with a strong jaw which twitched when he tried not to smile and dark grey eyes that blackened just before she kissed him. Too often she woke to the twittering birds of the dawn, Harry's arm over her waist along with the smell her hearth at Winterfell in her nose and a deep northern brogue laughing in her ear. The sensations shuddered and pulsed through her like a scythe and she escaped them by slipping into the mind of the nearest bird to scout the area before the sun had fully risen.

She was skinchanging. It's the stuff of witches and fairytales and Beyond the Wall and while she was far too terrified to tell Harry or Bronn, she wished the Gods could have given Jon just one more day on this earth so she could talk about it with him.

As the days continued, Sansa still couldn't bring herself to touch Harry, she became even more impatient to reach the Twins and see Robb and her father (who although not mentioned by the smallfolk must be with their family by now). Something had gone wrong inside of her and she told herself that being around the brother she and Jon had shared, the father that gave life to them both, would heal her sickness.

They travelled on, through woodlands, across snowy fields and frozen streams before they neared the port of Seagard and Harry demanded they spend a night in an inn. Sleeping on a frozen forest floor in a cold tent, even with Sansa beside him had lost its appeal while Sansa herself was fed up of scavenged turnips, moudly mushrooms or the occasional woodland rat.

"It's too dangerous." Bronn argued. "We've prices on our heads. Big ones"

"This is the Riverlands, Seagard is in the hands of Tully bannermen, the Mallisters are sworn to Sansa's uncle" Harry replied "How dangerous could it be?"

"Loyalty means little when a man sees gold in his mind's eye" Bronn warned.

"As you are ample proof" Sansa said with a sharp tongue "We needn't use our names, I can hide my hair in a shawl. It's just one night and my parents may pay you more if I'm not returned to them stinking of like a wet boot."

So it was settled and in the late afternoon they rode into Seagard and asked for two rooms at _The Happy Septon_. It was not until later, over a dinner of parsnip stew, that they heard from the other patrons what had happened at The Twins.

A wedding.

A betrayal.

A massacre.

.

After she had heard of the murders of Robb and Catelyn Stark, Sansa went up to the room and lay on the rough linen sheets of the inn's bed. She didn't cry, she felt empty of tears, empty of everything. Instead she stared at the closed wooden shutters of the small window, her eyes boring into the swirls in the wooden grain, following as it swooped up and down, round and round.

The sounds of jovial dining and drinking drifted up from the floor below. The tale of the Red Wedding had been whispered with shock but once the tale had been revealed, the inn's patrons drank more as they speculated and shared gossip until it was just another scandal, an evening's entertainment for the merchants and sailors who visited Seagard.

Sansa could hear the lilting twangs of a lute and the thumps below signalled some had began to dance. Whores had probably snuck in. A deep burning jealousy swelled within Sansa as she thought of the patrons enjoying their revelry for one night before they went about their business the next day, eventually going back to their wives and children in some other part of Westeros or maybe even Essos. The whores were already home, tonight they would return to their tenements, to their mothers and brothers with pockets jangling full of coin.

Mother, Robb, Bran, Hosten, Lady... Jon. Sansa was all alone in the world now.

The door creaked open, breaking the stillness of the chamber and the mattress dipped as someone sat on the bed beside her.

"Maybe Lord Stark…" Harry started uncertainly.

"No" Sansa answered in a hard voice. She didn't know much anymore but she knew this could not have happened while her father still lived. Maybe he had died in Kings Landing, maybe he was killed at The Twins, maybe he fell somewhere in between...it didn't matter. Her father, who she once believed to be the strongest hero who had ever lived was now dead.

Her eyes drifted to the walls of wattle and daub painted over with a dull white paint that barely smoothed over the bumps and dents in the surface. A warm hand rested on Sansa's shoulder and for once she did not flinch. Instead she thought about her mother's hugs and Robb's smiles and how she would never experience either one again.

"We'll go to the Vale, we'll be safe there" Harry said in a quiet voice "My grandfather had a keep...of sorts. It's not much, not what you're used to but we could go there, if you like? Or we could go to Runestone, Lord Royce will…"

He stopped but only because Sansa had sat up to press her lips to his. Harry was still for a few moments, stunned and then his lips moved beneath her own as he kissed her back. Sansa ran her hands up his chest, over his shoulders and into his brilliant golden hair, his skin was so warm to her touch. Her mind was dull but her skin prickled as Harry cupped her breasts, stroking them eagerly. Sansa climbed into his lap, her body responding as one of his hands ran up her thigh under her dress and tugged at her smallclothes.

"Fuck, I missed this" Harry panted, pressing frantic kisses down Sansa's neck to her bosom as she ground down over his hard cock.

"Take me" She whispered, bringing one of his arms round her to hold her close, pushing herself closer and closer to Harry's body, revelling the feeling of his warm beating heart against her fingertips and whispers of want in her ears. "Please take me"

* * *

The next morning Sansa woke up to the cry of seagulls and a soreness between her legs. She lay in bed for a moment, taking in the feel of the rough bedsheets on her naked skin and listening to the sounds of the inn and town drift through the floorboards before she opened her eyes. A crushing sadness threatened to overwhelm her as she remembered that her mother and Robb were dead and she forces herself to think about Harry instead. He'd taken her three times that night and she had initiated it every time, making him fuck and touch her until she finally arrived at a blissful peak that freed her mind, washing it clean of imaginations of blood dripping down from her mother's white throat.

Tears pricked Sansa's eyes and she clenched them closed forcing the salt water away. She opened her eyes and found the window shutters were already open and the golden light of morning fell into the room, collecting in a pool on the floor. The bed beside her was empty but Harry was not far. He sat at the end of the bed, already dressed and lacing up his boots.

Sansa stared at his broad back for a few moments, he was a good man really. He had risked his life for her, comforted her when he could. She would try to be better for him, try to love him as she once did. Last night he had talked of making their home in the Vale. That might be nice. She could keep whatever holdfast his grandfather had left him, do the household accounts, run baths for him, bare his bastards...maybe one day they could try to send word to the wildlings, if Arya still lived then she could come and hide with them. Harry had spoken about Hardying Holdfast once, it was a tiny little place, hidden in the Mountains of the Moon, no one would disturb them there.

Sansa sat up, gathering the bedsheets around her to conceal her nakedness in the light of day. She opened her mouth to speak.

"Who's Jon?"

Nothing came out.

Harry turned to look at her, his face drawn in sadness.

"I…"

"You said his name last night" Harry said "Whispered it my ear for a few nights now, who is he?"

"He's...he's nobody" Sansa struggled to say.

Harry scoffed "I doubt it, you're face is all broken up" he claimed "Who is he? Some stable boy at Winterfell? Some guard at Casterly Rock? You used to sigh my name like that."

Sansa looked down at the sheets, she could not look in his accusing eye so she grabbed her clothes from where they had been scattered on the floor and got dressed. She felt like she had committed a great betrayal but she wasn't sure who it was against.

"Who is he?" Harry pressed in a hard voice.

"It doesn't matter" Sansa answered, her voice hollow "He's gone now."

"Did you fuck him?"

Sansa clenched her hand to stop herself from slapping him "Don't ask me questions like that. It's none of your…"

"It is my business. You're supposed to be mine." Harry claimed.

Sansa laughed "And are you mine? Don't tell me that you've been chaste since we parted, I won't believe it."

And she knew she was right from the guilt that washed over Harry's face "That's different. It's different for men, we have needs."

"I'm aware of men's needs, I've been fighting them off ever since I grew teats." Sansa snapped pulling her dress into place and combing her fingers through her hair to fasten it in a braid.

Harry stared at her with an open mouth "Don't you care for me at all?"

Guilt bloomed anew "Yes of course, I…" She tried to say that she loved him but the words wouldn't come out "I'm very fond of you."

Harry snorted "You make me sound like a pet kitten."

Sansa sighed "That's not what I...Let's not talk of this. It will only upset us."

Harry's jaw clenched and she suspected that he wanted to argue more but the door burst open. It was Bronn "We need to leave...now" He panted and they became aware of shouts downstairs.

Sansa threw on her boots and Harry scrambled together their belongings as Bronn ushered them out of the room and down the inn's backstairs. "There's some big bitch in armour in town, asking if anyone's seen Sansa Stark" He whispered in exclamation "It got some of the sellswords that were here last night thinking."

Seagard was supposed to be sworn to Sansa's mother's family but as Bronn had said oaths and loyalties matter little in the face of coin. They ran out through the kitchens, startling the cook and emerged out behind the back of the stables. Sansa hid behind the building while Harry and Bronn ran to bring round the horses.

They returned, without a horse for Sansa, but riding on their own steeds chased by men in armour and swinging swords. Harry reached an arm out and with a deft hand scooped up Sansa behind him. As they raced she looked over her shoulder and saw they were being chased by three men in mismatched armour without sigels, hedge knights and sellswords who probably could believe their luck. They charged through the streets of Seagard, knocking over carts, sending crates of fish flying as smallfolk dove out of the way and cursed in their wake. A fourth figure appeared in the distance and caught up to them as they left the town. It was the 'big bitch' that Bronn had mentioned. Fear and adrenaline thrummed through Sansa but even still she could not help but gape at the sight of the woman built like a knight who rode her horse like a centaur and was dressed from head to toe in gleaming armour wielding a great broadsword in her hand.

They flew through the gates of Seagard and out onto the snowy roads that ran along the coast of the Cape of Eagles. Sansa smelt the salty sea spray and Harry's golden locks whipped wildly in the wind as he and Bronn rode hard.

Suddenly Harry's horse lurched beneath them as the destrier skidded on a patch of ice and she, Harry and the beast tumbled to the ground, the deep snow banks at the side of the road breaking their fall.

The sellswords were on them in an instant and Harry jumped to his feet duelling all three with a snarl on his lips and desperation in his eyes. Bronn had ridden off, either not caring or not knowing what had happened and Sansa watched in horror as blow after blow landed on Harry. Somehow he managed to get the smallest sellsword, but as he slid his sword out of the man's throat the other two hacked at him, one cutting him down at the knee, the other dealing an almighty blow to his head with his shield.

" _No!_ " Sansa screamed as Harry fell to his knees and a sword was plunged into his chest. He toppled forward, face first into the snow, staining it dark red with his blood.

Sansa scrambled up the bank, to where the horse's reigns lie as the sellswords advanced on her. But then the sound of hooves thundered closer, the armoured woman had reached them, she leapt off her horse and skewered one of the sellswords in one elegant movement. Sansa's heart pounded, battering the her rib cage as she watched the woman parry and finally overpower the final of the sellswords until he too was lying dead in the churned up pink slush alongside his companions.

"My lady?" the woman panted, her attention turning to Sansa "Lady Sansa Stark? Your…"

Harry groaned and Sansa rushed towards him, hardly caring if the woman struck her down or not. She turned her lover over on to his back and pressed her hands to where blood leaked out beneath his chainmail.

"San...Sansa.." Harry gasps, his face whitening and blood bubbled out of his mouth as he attempted to speak.

"Shh, I'm here" Sansa tried to reassure him "It's all right."

"Don't want...die...I...love…" He stuttered, he looked so scared.

Sansa caressed his cheek "Don't worry yourself" She told him in a firm voice, tears streaking down her cheeks "You're going to be well. All will be well"

Hooves sounded behind her, Bronn had returned but he was too late.

Harry choked, trying to say something else but more blood poured out of his mouth and his eyes seem to bulge out slightly as his pupils become fixed in the centre. Sansa leant down to kiss his forehead "I love you" she whispered in his ear.

The light went from his eyes.

She sat at the side of the road, next to Harry, playing with his lifeless fingers as Bronn and the armoured woman dragged the corpses of the sellswords away, throwing them in a nearby ditch. They threatened to do the same to Harry.

"No, he must be buried" Sansa insisted.

"My lady…" Bronn started weakly "There might be more of them coming."

"Bury him" Sansa ordered.

For once Bronn's guilt seemed to surpass his desire to save his own skin and he relented. It seemed to take him hours to cut through the snow and frozen earth beneath to dig a grave. As Sansa watched, the armoured woman gingerly approached her, holding up her hands as a sign of peace. She introduced herself as Lady Brienne of Tarth and Sansa recognised the name.

"You are sworn to Renly Baratheon" she said looking at the woman in disgust.

"I was" Lady Brienne said "But my vow to Lord Renly broke when he asked me to partake in a dishonourable act. I am now sworn to your brother."

"Robb is dead" Sansa answered in a lifeless voice.

"I meant your half brother, Jon Snow. He lives still at Castle Black" Brienne said "He ordered me to come south and rescue you."

Sansa glared at her with angry eyes "How dare you…. Jon is dead. Your Renly killed him" She spat "If you mean to drag me off to Kings Landing, don't lie about it, just do it."

Tarth opened her mouth but Sansa beat her to it "And don't mention Jon's name again."

The woman paused and then said "I have a letter" she withdrew folded parchment from beneath her breastplate and handed it to Sansa. It was sealed with a circle of unbroken black wax. She tore it open and her heart skipped as she recognised Jon's handwriting:

_Dear Sansa,_

_I've instructed Lady Brienne to rescue you from Casterly Rock. She owes me a life debt and I believe you can trust her._

_She is a good fighter and you will be safe in her hands. Just let her know where you want to go and she will protect you._

_You will always be welcome at the Wall._

_Your servant always._

_Jon Flowers_

Sansa let loose a watery laugh "Take me to Castle Black"

**Ned**

The dark silhouetted towers and domes of Sunspear loomed closer under a clear night sky scattered with tens of thousands of brightly shining stars. The ship rocked gently as they sailed into Shadow City's harbour, the gentle waters of the Summer Sea lapping softly at its bough. It had been more than twenty years since Ned had journeyed to Dorne and the air felt just as balmy as he remembered, tinged with strange spicy smells of which he could not tell the root.

Lady Dayne came up beside him to gaze at the port beyond "You are almost home" Ned said.

She gave a sad smile "It has been over twenty years, can I really call Dorne home anymore? So much has happened."

Ned felt his own mood dip at her words. He had sent letters from Pentos, and another while on the Rhoyne but had received no response in return from his wife or son. That perhaps shouldn't be surprising, he had been moving around and it was hard enough for news to travel through Westeros during winter, let alone across the Narrow Sea. But that did not dull the ache in his heart, the worry that etched on his brow.

_Has Cat heard of Jon's true birth? Does she loathe me for lying for all these years?_

_Does Robb resent me for starting this war, for leaving him to campaign alone?_

"We'll dock soon, I'll fetch Connington and the boy." Ned said.

"The king" Ashara corrected, a different kind of worry was etched in her face "We are in Westeros now, he must be a king now."

Prince Oberyn met them on the pier. Martell had aged only a little since Ned had last seen him, there were strands of hair that glinted silver in the moonlight but otherwise the Red Viper of Dorne was just as sharp, just as fearsome as his reputation proclaimed. He held an alertness that reminded Ned of ice adders that lurked in the reed beds of the Neck waiting to pounce. 

The Prince braced his hands on Aegon's shoulders after they were introduced and looked him up and down with a scrutinising eye "They tell me you are my sister's son. I knew Elia better than my own self, I will soon see if you are truly her child."

The young pretender king did his best not to gulp "I am pleased to meet you, uncle."

Prince Oberyn chuckled although it was not clear whether he was laughing with the boy or at him. He was joined on the pier by an honour guard and two young women. "My niece Princess Arianne Martell, the Heir of Sunspear" he introduced one of them, dark, bejewled and beautiful, the princess extended a hand to Aegon and he kissed it blushingly.

"Your grace" She greeted in a soft voice looking up from under lidded eyes.

They had taught him how to fight, how to negotiate, how to write laws, how to read prayer but not even Ashara's gentle instruction seemed to have prepared the boy for beautiful maidens.

Ned shared an uneasy look with Connington, they had both agreed that it would be a waste of a betrothal despite the wishes of the Martells. Sunspear would follow Aegon regardless, far better to dangle the offer of Queendom under the nose of an undeclared house. The Hightowers maybe? Or the Florents?

"And this is my eldest daughter, Obara Sand" This woman was a warrior like her father, muscular and covered in armour instead of silks.

Ned bowed his head in greeting, as he did for Princess Arianne but Connington kept his neck upright and the bastard woman bristled at the slight, clenching her spear.

"We thank you for hosting us" Ned declared.

Prince Oberyn looked at Ned with laughing eyes "Lord Eddard Stark, come to place a Targaryen boy on the Iron Throne...my, my. But then I hear you have a soft spot for Targaryen boys...you hid one in your own castle?"

Ned did not deny it, what was the point "Not well enough" He answered instead with a clenched jaw.

The prince nodded solemnly "Now is the time for vengeance, for wolf and snake to pay back what was ripped from us."

"Aye" Ned growled.

"My father waits for us in the Old Palace" Princess Arianne nodded to the dark silhouetted towers and domes of Sunspear that loomed over the Shadow City "His sickness prevents him from greeting you all in person but he has laid on a feast in welcome. We will dine, then we will plan."

It was a welcome plan to Ned who had spent weeks eating ship rations and whose stomach cried out for a castle cooked meal. There were horses waiting for them at the end of the pier, fine Dornish sandsteeds who whisked them away to the palace with speed.

Prince Doran Martell was nothing like his brother, his body was soft and swollen by gout and he greeted them in a wheeled chair pushed by a servant. He had a sharp mind as Ned discovered when they discussed strategy over a feast.

"The Kingslayer sails with the Golden Company to the Stormlands" Connington told the brothers "With Lord Varys whispering in Robert's ear we may be able to keep their arrival secret, we'll take the Stormsend first, the rest will follow."

"The young prince should be with them." Prince Doran argued "If you want men to put their trust in him as King then they will need to see him as a winner of battles, not hiding behind his uncles' breeches."

"I agree" Ned said before Connington could object "We'll set sail in a day or two to catch up with the fleet. If we may trespass on your hospitality a little longer, my prince."

Doran shrugs "Of course, it will give the boy a chance to get to know his cousins."

They looked down the table to where Princess Arianne was feeding Aegon dates with her fingers while Lady Ashara coughed loudly in a bid to regain her bewitched ward's attention.

"Only for a day or two" Connington repeated Ned's words with a hard edge. "Can we count on the Dornish army?"

Prince Oberyn gave a dry chuckle and began to unpeel an orange "The Dornish army will stay in Dorne."

"Our army is too small to make much of a difference in the north" Prince Doran explained "Instead my brother will take battalions of men to raid the Stormlands and the Reach. We hope to draw the Tyrells and Baratheons into the Red Mountains and the deserts of Dorne where our men have the advantage."

"Like a snake in the reed bed" Ned murmured.

Oberyn nodded "Precisely" he said with a smirk "You are welcome to join us Lord Eddard."

But Ned shook his head "I have my own army waiting for me" He said "I've sent a raven to my son Robb asking him to bring the Stark and Tully armies south. We will join the Golden Company to take the capital together."

A moment of strained silence followed his statement. The Martell brothers looked at one another but did not speak, further down the table Princess Arianne had stopped feeding Aegon with her fingers and was now watching with her cousins.

The uncomfortable pause was drawn out until Ned asked hoarsely "What is it?"

Oberyn traced shapes on the jade surfaced table "Of course, he has been at sea, he does not know."

"Know what?" Ned demanded.

Doran Martell heaved a heavy sigh and looked at him with drawn eyes "The gods have condemned me to be the one to tell you" he whispered "A great wrong has been done to your house Lord Eddard. The Stark and Tully armies were invited to a wedding at The Twins and were massacred there. Your wife and son were killed in Lord Frey's Great Hall."

Ned seemed to float out of his body for a moment. He could see himself seated at a lavish jade table strewn with spiced fish and exotic fruits but he could not feel anything. Not the floor beneath his feet, not the knife in his hand, not the air in his lungs…

"The Freys and Boltons carried out the deed" Oberyn said with dark eyes "But the orders came from Tywin Lannister and we will bring his downfall, that I swear."

**Sansa**

****Sansa and Lady Brienne said goodbye to Bronn on the Kingsroad just before the Neck. As promised, she handed the cutthroat a letter of recommendation for him to present to Lady Blackmont while trusting Jynessa to have the good sense to ignore any advice given by a recently escaped hostage of war.

The trek north was brutal and Sansa finally understood what her father meant when he talked of the white winds. Snowy gales blew fiercely and clouded every step they took through deepening snow drifts and the cold was like nothing Sansa had ever experienced before, clawing through to her very bones.

Shelter was easy to come by, Brienne was practiced in digging out snow shelters and many of the cottages and mills they came across were empty. Most seemed to have been abandoned but some still held the frozen corpses of families huddled together.

Sansa threw up the first time she encountered such a sight in a farmhouse just north of the Neck. They found a mother and child lain on the bed, the cold perfectly preserving their bony shoulders, stick like limbs, sunken faces and bellys that had swollen with malnutrition. There was a bloody knife on the bed and Sansa guessed that the mother must have ended it for them both before the pain of starvation could set in.

Brienne laboured all night digging frozen earth to give them graves.

She was a good woman. She protected, guided and hunted for Sansa, even comforting her in her nightmares as dreams tormented her of Harry, her mother and brothers' deaths. She never complained that Sansa was next to useless, that she had no idea how to hunt or which direction to go in in the blustering wintry storms. She never complained that Sansa was sometimes too tired and weak to even get out of bed and had to be helped onto her horse and tied to the beast to stop her from falling off.

They traveled together for weeks and weeks and on some days they were barely able to cross a field whilst on others they hid from the snowstorms in some dead family's drafty dwelling.

The only thing that comforted her, that kept Sansa from putting one foot in front of the other was the thought of Jon at the end of her journey.

"Explain it to me again" Sansa asked Brienne one night in a dug out shelter in the Wolfswood.

"I wish I could my lady. All I know is that when I left Castle Black your brother was dead and when I returned he stood before me and breathed just as you do" Brienne answered "The men of the Nights Watch say he came alive on his funeral pyre."

"Thoros of Myr used to boast that fire priests could raise the dead when he lived at court" Sansa mused "But he was always quite drunk."

"The Myrish priest died before Jon Snow was killed my lady. They say he was killed in an ambush by wildlings."

Sansa nodded "It must be the gods then, they knew how much the people of the realm needed him" She smiled to herself.

The Gods had been kind to her too by granting Jon a second chance and she swore to never forsake them again. Jon's life was too precious. Never again would she think ungodly thoughts or dream sinful dreams of her bastard half-brother.

The Wolfswood was slightly more pleasant to travel through, the oaks, pines and ironwood protected them from the worst of the biting coldness of the North and there was more food. Within the forest Brienne's hunts and traps were more successful and yet...she did not seem to be able to gather enough food to ease the never-ending burn of hunger in Sansa's stomach.

She was not of the North and so didn't always know which berries and mushrooms were safe to eat, as such there were many a time when she had to hold Sansa's hair back as her charge vomited into the snow.

After the Wolfswood, they travelled into the Northern mountains and the days started to get shorter. When the sun did come out, it was hidden in a sky billowing with pearly grey clouds which made it harder to tell when they are going north.

One night, however, Sansa dreamed she was a bird soaring over clouds, the winter sun beating down over her feathers as she spies the peaks rising through seas of winter mists and in the distance looms a great icy edifice.

Sansa woke to find Blueberry nipping at her fingertips as her faithful falcon clicked softly.

"I shall know where to go now" Sansa announced to Brienne as she stroked Blueberry's feathers with relief.

With Blueberry's help they laboured their way through the Northern Mountains and to Last River, the last natural barrier before the Wall. The river was seventy foot wide and encased in a thick lid of ice over which snow had fallen creating an easy path.

"Wait" Brienne warned as Sansa moved to cross "Listen".

Sansa stilled and heard the low rumbling of water rushing below the ice.

"This is not like the Neck, the water is deep here and the ice might break below our weight."

Sansa wanted to cry, they were so close, on a clear day they could make out the Wall over the horizon. "What do we do?"

"We must tie ourselves together and crawl across. Try to flatten your body as much as possible, we need to spread our weight." Brienne advised.

Sansa obeyed and the whole ordeal might have felt very inelegant and embarrassing were it not for the frightening creaks that sound from the ice beneath her. She was supremely relieved when they reached the north bank.

Brienne untied the rope joining them "I'll go back for the horses"

"No" Sansa exclaimed "They won't make it, they're too heavy. We can walk from here."

But Lady Brienne shook her head "We don't know how much food is on this side of the river. With the horses we are less than two days away from Castle Black, without them we may starve."

And so Sansa watched in trepidation as Brienne crawled back across the ice and slowly lead Sansa's nervous looking mare back to the north bank, the ice creaking louder with every step. However as Sansa's protector lead her own destrier across the frozen river there was an almighty _CRACK_!

The ice shattered and started to break apart. Suddenly it collapsed beneath Brienne and the horse and Sansa screamed.

She looked around wildly and the otherwise quiet snowy bank and large gaping hole in the frozen surface of the river.

" _Brienne! Brienne!_ " Sansa screamed over the sound of rushing waters broken free from their icy prison. A yellow head burst out of the water and Brienne appeared, throwing her arms over an icy ledge, struggling to pull herself up as the strong currents try to carry her away with them.

Sansa crawled out to the ledge and arms and legs straining she tugged a drenched Brienne onto the sheet of ice. They lay there panting for a few seconds before edging carefully back to the shore.

By the time they had reached the bank, Brienne's skin had grown a deathly blue shade and the soaked woman shivered violently. Sansa rushed to build a fire, fumbling with kindling and flint in her frightened fingers as Brienne's teeth chattered loudly behind her.

As the flames started to grow, Sansa helped her friend tug off her armour, her drenched clothes and covered her in her own cloak and the furs they used to keep the horses warm. Then she guided her own mare to sit down behind to Brienne and lend her body heat.

As the sun fell and the night grew colder, Sansa hunted for more fuel to grow the fire in a desperate attempt to stave off the creeping cruelty of the cold. Brienne's breathing began to labour and worsen as the moon rose and Sansa hugged her close trying to share her own body heat.

"Father" The woman muttered "You're here...hold me father."

Her delusions carried on for a little while, she talked to her mother, promising Lady Tarth that she will be a good lady, that she won't fight the stable boys anymore. In the blackest hours of the night Sansa's tired body succumbed to sleep and when she woke the next morning she found that Brienne was dead in her arms.

Sansa allowed herself to shed a few tears before forcibly pulling herself together so that she could burn the body. It was a hard task and it took Sansa many hours to find enough fuel on the barren river bank and whether due to cold, damp or grief Sansa struggled to light a fire, bursting into tears only once she had succeeded. The gods were not kind this time, Brienne did not rise but instead dissolved into ash.

The next morning Sansa sent out Blueberry to find the Kingsroad and they followed it as it wound through woods and foothills to Castle Black. After two days Sansa caught sight of Castle Black, the shabby fortress that Jon once described to her as home was sheltered under a massive barrier of ice that gleamed in the midday sun and stretched as high as the heavens.

Sansa's tired mare limped through the open gates into a busy courtyard where boys were training, men were chopping wood or pulling water from a well while a smith hammered metal with loud 'clinks' in his forge. The chatter and the bustle slowed to a stop as Sansa entered their midst and she felt the stares of scrawny children, burly rangers and gnarled old stewards fall heavily upon her.

She little resembled the elegant lady she once had. Her dress was dirty, her fingernails were grubby, her hair was greasy, tangled and unruly even when tightly braided. She was also fairly certain that she smelt poorly and that there were red circles round her eyes from feeling so tired.

Sansa looked around searching the huts and warehouses topped with snow, the barracks from where men emerged in the doorways, the kitchens with sooty windows and smoking chimneys and the towers with broken tiles and crumbling walls

Then she heard a sharp intake of breath, as loud as if it had been made in her own ear and turned to see Jon standing at the top of some steps leading from a wooden walkway that circled one of the larger stone buildings.

For a moment she felt a prickle of fear and anxiety. What if he didn't want her here? What if he thought she would be a nuisance and had wanted Brienne to take her some place else.

But then Jon slowly walked down the steps, his grey eyes never leaving hers and as he moved Sansa felt every pain and ache in her body relieved. She dismounted her horse and ran to him.

He gathered her up in his arms, pressing her in a strong and tender embrace and Sansa burrowed her nose into the crook of his neck just smelling him as she clutched his shoulders trying to dig her fingers into his skin. For the first time in over a year she felt safe and she nearly cried with the sweet relief of it.

"Never again" Jon whispered fiercely as he pressed kisses over the crown of her head, breathing in through her hair "Never again" He repeated.

**The prisoner of The Twins  
**

They had shackled her in chains and locked her in the darkest, dankest dungeons of The Twins. She thrashed, snarled and spat every time they came to bring her food; burning with a desperate need to kill every man, woman and child in the castle.

"Can't we just kill her?" she overheard the whining of a guard who she's scratched.

She hopes they will kill her. She wants to die. She claws at her face until there is blood under her fingernails and refuses food until they force it down her throat.

They've taken her boys, her beloved boys - Robb, Bran, Rickon, Hosten, even the bastard Jon Snow. Since she saw Roose Bolton drive a knife into Robb's heart all she's wanted is death and vengeance.

"No, Lord Walder wants her as a hostage" The guard's superior replied "In case that coward Ned Stark comes back."

Fools she thinks, Catelyn Stark's husband was arrested and slain by Robert Baratheon at the start of this war.

She just wishes she knew why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments so far. Please let me know what you think of this chapter and the story so far.
> 
> P.S. We're going to be spending most of the rest of the story in the North. The South will occasionally feature and be referenced but I'm not going to be spending that much time on the conflicts there as otherwise this story will balloon and balloon.


	23. The joy and pain of meeting again

**Jon**

"Where are we?" Sansa murmured.

"The King's Tower" Jon replied, wrapping her in more furs on the bed. Her skin was ice cold and a blueish white "We won't be disturbed here."

Silence echoed around them, they were alone but for a handful of bats that lived up in the rafters of the tower's attic. The King's Tower was a drafty column of crumbling stone. Over a hundred foot high it had been named for the Winter Kings of long ago but no king had stayed here in over a century. It was mostly used for storage now but there were a few chambers within the dark heart of the tower that had strong thick doors to protect any revered guests from the winter cold.

The wind had picked up since Jon had carried her into the room, he could here it howling as it battered the outer walls and whistling as it escaped through the cracks in the stone slabs.

Sansa's eyelids lowered.

"These were Robb's old rooms, during the War Beyond the Wall" Jon told her, wanting to keep her awake. He touched the tips of his fingers to her copper hair, which was splayed out around her like a firey halo on the white pillow. He gently stroked the tresses, hardly daring to believe that she was real, that she was here, with him.

"Robb's dead" Sansa murmured listlessly "Brienne's dead. Everyone's dead"

Jon felt a lump grow in the back of his throat "We're not" he whispered.

Sansa's eyes fluttered open and she smiled. "You're alive" and she reached up a hand to caress his face warning his blood.

Jon held it there, it was small, cold and delicate like it's mistress. Gods she was beautiful. A year's passing had only added to her beauty, even with wild tangled hair and a ripped dirty dress she still carried the air of a high-born lady perfectly assured of her status. Yes, her cheeks had lost some of their fresh fullness but he would fill her full of food.

He only feared the innocence she had once held on to so tightly was gone forever. In it's place her eyes carried an experience and knowledge that darkened Jon's core.

"Aye, I'm alive" he spoke hoarsely.

Sansa's smile fell and her eyes grew sad "I thought you were dead. They told me you had been killed, I thought you were dead."

He opened his mouth and tried to explain but the words couldn't come out. How could he explain to her what had happened, how could describe what manner of creature he must be now? How could the darkness and depravity that lived within his soul sit alongside her sweetness?

There was a knock on the door. Jon ignored it, thinking that if he left her side she might vanish like a pleasant dream on a cold morning. The knock sounded again and Jon heard Pyp call his name.

When he opened the door, he saw that Pyp had brought a tray laden with bread, cheese and broth. "Thank you" Jon said taking the tray from him

"Mallister wants to know who she is" Pyp whispered.

"Sansa...my sister...half-sister" Jon replied "Tell him she has Tully blood"

As Sansa ate Jon told her bits of nonsense about the stores, the horses, the wall repairs, the Maester from Oldtown who'd wanted to study the stars but left after three weeks because it was too cold.

"Have you heard from Arya?" Sansa whispered suddenly.

Jon shook his head "But that does not mean anything. Communication between here and Skagos is slow and difficult" It was harder now that he was no longer First Ranger and almost always confined to Castle Black. A fact that had once rattled him but no longer seemed so important anymore.

"The last words I spoke to mother were of Arya" Sansa said quietly "She came to visit me in Casterly Rock, she was desperate for any hope that Arya was safe and I lied to her. I never thought I'd lie to my mother."

"You had no choice" Jon said "We had to protect Arya. If your mother knew then she would be complicit, she'd be in danger."

"And now she's dead anyway. Sometimes I wonder if she knew...the things she said...the way she said them" She drifted of into thought, before continuing a moment later in the same ethereal tone "Sometimes I wonder if King Robert knew. If that's why he turned against father...if all the horrors that have befallen our family are our fault."

"No" Jon said gruffly " _No_ " he repeatedly forcefully "Father had no part in Arya's escape, there was nothing to link him to it"

"But the things we've done, the vows we've broken…" She whispered "What if this is the Gods punishing us for our sins?"

It was a horrid thought that dug beneath his skin like a splinter

Jon swallowed uncomfortably. "The Gods don't work like that" His voice was hoarse but he tried to make it firm.

The wildlings called the gods they worshiped cruel and was it not cruel to kill everyone they loved and leave them alone in this horrid limbo at the end of the world?

His half-sister's eyes began to close once more. Jon felt the urge to kiss her on the forehead as she drifted off, he would have done it earlier but not now. Instead he squeezed her hand (he couldn't remember taking hold of her hand) and stood up.

"Where are you going?" Sansa asked suddenly, her voice echoing with alarm.

"Shh...I'll just be next door. I have the next chambers" Jon told her. Mallister had confined him here after his resurrection and even now the men were clearly uncomfortable at the thought of him returning to the barracks. "You'll be safe here. I'll protect you."

"How can you do that if you're not here?" Sansa whined reaching out to grab his hand "Stay, please."

He'd rather do anything but, yet Jon could not deny her and so that night he slept on the floor.

He slept on the floor for the next few nights as well and it was a misery. Jon could here her breathing in the middle of the night, hear the little murmuring sounds she made into her pillow and the rustle of her sheets as she moved against them. He woke up hard with his conscience stained in filth.

Sansa regained her health bit by bit and soon she was no longer so malnourished that she threw up almost everything she ate. Jon tried feed her starving appetite as much as he could and her cheeks grew rosy pink again whilst her eyes started to shine brightly. One night, he and Pyp arranged a bath for her, a luxury at the Wall and she scavenged a comb and a couple of old fashioned dresses from the depths of the Kings Tower. Later that evening, when she let him back into her room, he found her looking every inch the beautiful highborn lady that she was born to be.

Jon's duties stopped him from hiding away with her in the Kings Tower forever. Even though Mallister refused to let him go beyond the Wall and First Ranger Harclay was half afraid of him, Jon was still needed to hunt in the Gift, chop firewood, help the builders with their repairs and take guard duty at the top of the Wall. He tried to time this around whenever Sansa was asleep but there was not much point as Sansa expressed her displeasure at spending all her time in the King's Tower.

"I did not flee Casterly Rock so I could remain locked in another tower Jon." She told him firmly and it brought up guilt in Jon's mind that it was left to Bronn and the Tyrells to free her. _I should have gone myself_.

She hated the idea of being a burden so reluctantly he escorted her to the library everyday to read to Maester Aemon. It was useful work and freed up Sam to carry out research of his own but that didn't mean that Jon liked the way his brothers eyes fell on Sansa whenever they crossed the yard.

Soon Jon began to understand how Sam had felt for the short time Gilly had stayed at Castle Black - _one hundred men and one woman_. Jon tried to tell himself that they wouldn't dare, Sansa wasn't a wildling but a highborn lady...except that many of the Molestown whores had already gone south and Sansa wass so lovely she made her own bastard brother wonder what it would be like to be inside of her.

"You could send her…" Sam started to suggest when Jon confided his fears.

"No" Jon cut him off. At times Sansa's presence was a torment but it would be worse if she left.

* * *

About a moon after Sansa's arrival, the sky cleared and became a brilliant forget me not blue and so Jon decided that the weather was finally right to take Sansa to the top of the Wall.

"It's beautiful" she breathed gazing out for the first time at the untamed lands beyond the Wall. At the undulating haunted forest where snow capped pines and fir trees rose and dipped with hills and valleys broken rarely by a bright spot of red showing where a heart tree stood. At the jagged icy slopes of the Frostfang mountain range, to the shadowy silhouetted peaks that border the Valley of the Thenn and the glittering ice that covered the tributaries of the Milkwater river.

"Aye" Jon agreed "I wanted to be here when you saw it for the first time, like Uncle Benjen was for me. I was so taken aback I almost fell off."

Sansa giggled and stepped forward to take a closer look "It's so wild, I shouldn't last half a day out there."

"You've made it this far." Jon shrugged "And you'd have Blueberry to help you" he grinned nodding at Sansa's hawk who had come up to the top of the Wall with them. The bird swooped and soared, enjoying the gentle air currents like a dancer taken to the stage.

His half sister smiled, but it was a troubled smile and she glanced around to check they were alone "I have dreams sometimes, I dream that I'm Blueberry" she confessed softly "I dream that I can see through her eyes and move her body as though it were mine….And...I can see through her body when I'm awake too."

Jon stilled "You're a warg?"

Sansa shrunk back a little, like a frightened mouse "Is that wrong? Is it unnatural?"

"I would say it's useful more than unnatural" Jon replied and she looked so worried that he couldn't help but smile. He reached tuck a strand of hair behind ear, it was soft in his fingers, and then cup her neck with his gloved hand "It's a gift."

Sansa nodded "I didn't know what was happening to me...It started after I'd heard you had died and I was worried that it meant something was wrong with me. I scarcely believed you when you said that wargs existed and now I keep thinking of the other things you told me about...out there...the creatures that live beyond the Wall."

Jon wanted to tell her not to worry about them but that would be reckless. He wanted to tell her that in his dreams he had scales on his legs and a belly full of fire but the words wouldn't leave his lips. She would want to talk about it more, she might tell Maester Aemon and then…

All of a sudden he desperately wanted to kiss her. To taste her lips.

Instead he took both her hands in his and rubbed them warm. "This is a good thing Sansa, it will help you protect yourself." And although he was pleased for her there was a small part of him that was jealous. Jon and Sansa had both lost their wolves, in some ways the loss had brought them together... but Sansa no longer felt a yearning in her heart for a familiar like Jon did, she has filled that emptiness with Lord Arryn's falcon whilst Jon's void was left hollow and confused.

Sansa let go of his hands and wandered to the other side of the Wall. The south which had once been green and lush was now as barren and white as the north. She rested against a wooden support, leaning her head to one side.

"Lord Mallister says the Boltons have Winterfell now" She said. Every so often Mallister invited her to dine twice with him and the other officers, feeling it his duty to entertain a Tully lady rather than leave her alone with her baseborn brother.

"Lord Stark did suspect they might betray us" Jon said "It was why he wouldn't make a deal with Mance. I suppose he was right in the end."

"For all the good it did him, Robb or my mother" Sansa muttered bitterly "Do you think Rickon's out there somewhere?" She scoured the horizon as though hoping to see a speck that showed their little brother emerge from the Northern Mountains.

Jon shrugged. Privately, he tended to believe that Rickon must have died along with their father and Bran in Kings Landing.

"I held out some hope that he had survived, that maybe he made it here."

"Maybe he's in the south" Jon offered "The journey north is dangerous this time of winter. If I were a better man I would scold you for coming and not staying south."

"There is nothing for me in the south, everything I love is in the north" Sansa said softly, her voice was like silk and it sped up Jon's heart so it battered against his ribs.

"Sansa…" He answered in a low voice. He felt himself drawn to her, they stood so close that he could see every single eyelash and the way a sliver of tongue peaked out to lick her lips sending Jon's blood rushing to his groin. Jon's eyes darkened and they fell to her lips and his gaze caressed her body from the elegant arch of her neck to the way her bosom strained against her dress as her breath quickened.

Jon leaned in further until there was only a hair width between them…

A horn sounded and they lurched backwards unceremoniously, Jon gripped at the neared wooden post and tried to control himself.

"What was that?" Sansa panted.

Jon waited for more calls of the horn but none came "Nothing...a ranger has returned."

.

Jon had been praying for Satin's return for moons but half of him thought he might strangle him when they descended the Wall to find out that it was the former whore who had ridden through the gates of Castle Black.

The feeling did not last long. Jon kept sending brothers out from Castle Black and they kept not coming back, only now Satin _had_ come back. Harclay pulled him away quickly to debrief but later that night Jon and his friends gathered in Jon's chambers in the King's Tower to celebrate.

Sansa coughed and spluttered at her first taste of Castle Black ale "You'd think after eight thousand years the Night's Watch would have learned how to brew a decent ale." Jon grinned.

"It's vile" Sansa squeaked slapping him on the chest "I can't believe you let me drink that."

There weren't enough chairs so the pair of them were sat on the bed. Jon felt a warm, pleasant feeling that came from an evening in the company of those he liked best.

"Did Harclay believe you?" Beric asked Satin.

"Of course he did. It's winter, rangers get lost all the time. I'm only fucked if anyone we met on Dragonstone feels a sudden calling to join the Night's Watch and that doesn't seem very likely."

"Satin! There are ladies present" Sam scolded, nodding to Sansa who giggled in return.

"Sorry my lady, too much time spent with wildlings" Satin nodded to Sansa sending her a dazzling smile which made her giggle more.

"Never mind that, did you get it?" Jon asked trying to keep any edge out of his voice.

Satin nodded "It went exactly as you said…" and he told them the tale of how Allard Seaworth had smuggled him, Karsi and her clan to Dragonstone. How Satin had styled himself as an Oldtown merchant and engaged Stafford Lannister in games of dice until the man was practically begging them to take the dragonglass of his hands in return for a forgiveness of the debt.

"It took some time to mine it, it was a nightmare to dig out and the Shore Men are not natural miners but we got it out without much of a fuss from the islanders or the Lannisters" He glanced apologetically to Jon and Sansa "I think the war helped some, they were all distracted with other matters. It's on Skagos now, Rayder's got a hundred freefolk whittling it into weapons."

It was as though a collected sigh of relief sounded throughout the room.

"So we're armed thanks to Satin and Jon, we have food thanks to Lady Sansa and we have men thanks to Rayder" Sam said slowly "I think we might win this war."

"You've always said we would win the war against the Others" Pyp pointed out.

"Yeah but I was just saying that so you lot wouldn't get even more depressed. I didn't mean it."

Jon and the others laughed.

"Before I forget, I met someone of interest to you on Skagos" Satin said and he handed Jon a folded piece of parchment with his name written on it in a familiar hand.

Sansa's grip on his arm tightened _"Arya"_ she whispered.

The party died down shortly after that and Jon thought that he and Sansa must have been obvious in their desire to be alone and read the letter. As his brothers left Satin asked Jon for a quiet word and Jon followed him out into the corridor.

"What is it?" Jon asked worried at the anxious expression Satin's face had taken.

"Whilst I was in Dragonstone I heard some...rumours."

"What kind of rumours?" Jon asked quickly, if the southerners suspected what they doing up here…

"About your father...they said that Lord Stark plotted a Targaryen restoration." Satin mumbled

"My father's dead."

"I know but they were saying that he had hidden a secret Targaryen at…"

"No!" Jon interrupted him "My father was loyal, he was loyal to his King." He walked away glaring into the coal black shadows of the still hallway

"But Jon.…you were killed...by Renly Baratheon" Satin whispered, his eyes darted from side to side as though it were some big secret "Harclay told me. Why would the King's own brother travel all the way to the Wall just to kill Ned Stark's bastard…"

"Enough! It's nothing" Jon growled "You and I both know most stories that are shared during wars are bullshit. Most rumours that start in peacetime are bullshit."

" _You rose from your funeral pyre_." Satin hissed behind him " _What if…_ "

"What if nothing!" Jon swung round and seized Satin round the collar with a fury he did not know he possessed "My father was Lord Eddard Stark. My mother was Wylla, an innkeep's daughter who lived on the River Honeywine. I know that because my father told me and my father didn't lie. Do you understand?"

Satin nodded slowly "If you say so." He went to leave.

"Satin" The young man stopped, his hand on the door knob "Don't speak of this to anyone, especially the Lady Sansa."

He nodded "Jon…" and Jon feared that if he was pressed again he might break, but instead Satin asked "H...has there been any word from Edd or...Grenn?"

Jon shook his head apologetically hating himself for finding satisfaction in the misery that befell Satin's face.

Sansa was pouting when he returned "What took you?" She looked utterly lovely framed bathed in the amber glow of the fire.

"Nothing" Jon breathed.

Sansa patted the space on the bed beside her and Jon felt his body seize up as he carefully sat down next to her feeling stiff and awkward as she sunk into his side. She was absolutely glowing, he had not seen her smile like this in so long. He thought it bright enough to melt the heart of a white walker.

"Let's read" she said eagerly.

It was a pitifully short letter but then Arya had never been much of a correspondent. She was on Skagos, the Hound had gone with her as he had not trusted Val (who had met them at White Harbour instead of Mance as agreed) and they were posing as father and daughter. A whole paragraph had been dedicated to how deafening the Hound's snores were. She seemed not to care that her brother was conspiring with wildlings, instead she revelled in how they were teaching her to hunt, fish and fight.

"She sounds happy" Sansa sighed, resting her head on Jon's chest and causing his nerves to stand further on edge "I'm glad Sandor is with her, I always knew that he was a better man than he believed."

Jon remained silent, he played with her hair as she talked excitedly about Arya living with the wildlings, 'hmming' and 'ayeing' in the right places.

"She doesn't care that I betrayed Father and Robb" Jon said eventually.

"Of course she doesn't, she loves you" Sansa took his hand and rubbed her thumb across his knuckles making him shiver. After a little while she swallowed and said "When you love someone, you forgive them - right?"

"Right" Jon whispered thinking of the secrets he still kept from her.

They fell asleep in each other's arms and they did not talk about it the next morning . They didn't talk about what almost happened at the top of the Wall just like they never talked about what happened at Winterfell. Jon didn't see any point in it, no happiness could come from it. Sansa must not have seen any point either but over the next few weeks he felt her drift away from him as if she knew he was lying to her, as if she knew the disgusting thoughts in his head.

Every evening he still visited her in her bedchamber and they sat by the fire and talked of the days, just as it was in Winterfell...yet different.

Sansa grew less tactile with him. She started to hold his hand less, she stopped resting her head on his chest or letting him play with her hair, when they crossed the yard she kept her arms straight so that he couldn't take one.

Once Jon noticed this behaviour, he couldn't stop obsessing it and it filled him with a hollowing guilt. She was only a room away, what if one night she had heard him groan things in his sleep, during the hour of the wolf when he could not control his mind and dreamt of a life where they were not brother and sister, where he does all things to her that he wanted to.

Jon tried not to give thought to it. He was used to wanting things he could not have. He had done so all his life.

* * *

Two moons after Sansa arrived at Castle Black; Sam, Pyp and Satin cornered him in a library, locking the door behind them.

"We wanted to talk to you about...Lady Stark" Sam began.

Jon winced, he hated when people called her that, it reminded him of his father's wife and Sansa was nothing like Lady Catelyn. There were superficial similarities of course, the colour of their hair and eyes except that Sansa's hair was darker, her eyes too. Her face was quite different, her cheekbones were higher and she had a full pout where Lady Stark's lips were thin. And their souls were worlds apart.

"Aye, what about her?" Jon asked warily.

"How...how long is she going to be staying here?" Sam ventured tentatively.

Jon's jaw hardened "As long as she wants I suppose" he answered gruffly.

"You don't think she might be happier on Skagos with her sister?" Satin suggested weakly.

"No, I don't" Jon answered glaring at them all. Is this what they had come to ask him - to kick out Sansa?

"It can't be much fun being the only woman among a hundred men, I remember when Gilly was here and…"

"I can protect her. Sansa's not going anywhere."

"It's just that Lord Mallister has started to hint…"

"She's a highborn lady and a Tully at that. Mallister's not just going to throw her out in the snow." Jon argued.

"Not now perhaps but what happens in a few moons when she...well…" Sam trailed off, blushing with embarrassment.

"When she what?"

His friends exchanged uneasy looks.

"She's going to have a baby" Pyp suddenly blurted out.

There was a few moments silence then Jon choked out a hard laugh "What?! This is a jest?"

Sam looked down at the table and started tracing shapes in the woodgrain "We've noticed certain signs... the vomiting when she first arrived, the way she's gotten bigger around the tummy and...other areas."

Jon clenched his fist and tried very hard not to hit his friend "Aye, that's because she came here half starved and we've been feeding her. Feeding her food that Sansa, herself secured for all of us."

"We're not trying to slur her Jon" Satin assured him "Things happen and it's natural that she wouldn't want to tell her older brother…"

"There's nothing too tell." Jon insisted.

"But there's been no blood on her sheets or clothes" Pyp squeaked "I should know, I'm the one that washes them and there's no blood. I've been looking out for it because it's a nightmare to get out, you have to soak…"

"That's enough of that Pyp" Sam said looking a little green "The point is that Sansa needs to be with other women, I know a little about childbirth but not nearly as much as the woods witches on Skagos - they deliver babes every day. And Mallister's not going to want a bas... an illegitimate baby at Castle Black."

Jon rubbed his beard angrily "She can't be…"

Satin patted him cautiously on the shoulder "Take it from someone who grew up in a brothel, Lady Sansa _is_ with child."

.

A painful and angry weight pulled down on Jon as he stormed through the courtyard, ignoring calls to join in a training session. The wind was strong and his cloak billowed out as the cold hit his cheeks with icy fervour.

_It's a lie. It has to be a lie because women need to fuck to get with child and Sansa hasn't lain with anyone._

He opened the door to Sansa's room in the King's Tower with a loud BANG!, startling her.

"Jon, what in gods has gotten into you?" she cried reproachfully. She was sat by the fire, darning someone's socks, were they his or did they belong to another?

"Are you with child?" he demanded.

Sansa had always been a perfect lady and she was so even now. She was not indignant, angry or embarrassed, she did not go red and blush, instead her visage remained perfectly smooth and inscrutable like a porcelain doll. She put down her sewing and clasped her hands neatly in front of her, she did not wring them or twitch. She barely even blinked.

It was only when she spoke, the effect of his approach became clear "J...Jon..." she whispered in tremulous voice.

"Are you _with child?_ " Jon repeated in a deliberate, hardened voice.

"Y...yes"

" _Fuck!_ " Jon hissed stumbling around the room aimlessly "Fuck...fuck…" His voice became hoarse and he ran a hand through his hair pulling at the roots "Who's the father?" He growled.

"Please don't make me answer that Jon" Sansa beseeched.

"Who did this to you Sansa?" Jon repeated feeling more hollowed out by the second

"It will only make you angry. And everything's been so lovely - please don't be angry."

There was a rage heating up inside of him as he imagined some dashing knight baring her thighs open. He felt actual pain as he wondered whether Loras Tyrell, 'finest sword in the realm' forgot that he was supposed to like men, or maybe it had been here at Castle Black? Maybe he was a fool...he felt like a fool...maybe she fell for Satin's pretty curls or Beric's courtly manners.

Then a chill came over him as he wondered whether this was the payment Bronn demanded in return for rescuing her, if some Lannister guard had forgot their station or Joffrey, or Lord Tywin…

He would kill them.

"Tell me Sansa" Jon demanded, forcing himself to speak in calm measured tones. "Tell me who did this to you."

Sansa's face crumpled, her lips quivered and her eyes fluttered as they begin to shimmer with untold sadness "H...Harry, i...it was Harry."

Jon let go an angry huff as forceful as if he really were a dragon and he began to pace again, staring wildly around the room. He couldn't look at her so he looked at the bed sheets he wished to tear, the mirror he wanted to smash or the water jug he wanted to hurl against the wall. He gripped his fists tightly to stop himself, his fingernails cut into his palms and he clenched his eyes shut trying to relieve himself of the mounting pressure in his skull.

"Please Jon…" Sansa's voice was closer, she had risen and was standing behind him. A hand reached out to touch his shoulder and Jon jerked away.

"How? You haven't seen him for years."

"He...The Tyrells asked for his help getting me out of Casterly Rock."

Jon laughed darkly "Of course he was the one to save you" he spun around to glare at her "Your darling golden knight whom you dreamed of as a girl, the one to whom you gave your maidenhead... _of course_ he rode in on a white stead to rescue you from the evil Lannisters. I bet you adored that, they should write a song about it."

_Smack!_ Sansa slapped him.

"How dare you?" She hissed her mood transforming from anxiety to outrage in a moment "You have no idea what it was like there. How dare you treat it like some great joke. They locked me up. They told me that you were dead."

" _You lied to me!_ " Jon roared, his blood rising every second "You told me that Bronn and Tyrell saved you. All this time you've been lying to me...you never once mentioned Hardyng or that you were carrying his fucking child!"

"I DIDN'T KNOW!" Sansa shouted, before taking a deep breath, she smoothed down her dress as though trying to calm herself "I w...wasn't sure, not first anyway. I didn't know when I first came here."

"But you know now" Jon said coldly "You knew yesterday and I'll wager you knew last week. You lied to me and you lied about Hardyng from the start."

"Because I knew how you would react and I was right" Sansa snapped "It meant nothing so why would I want to deal with you like this."

"Aye it meant nothing" Jon scoffed "That's what you told me last time, in Winterfell, and then you fucked him again."

_Smack!_ She slapped him again.

She was panting heavily, they both were and her breasts heaved with every breath she took. Sam was right, they were bigger - Jon should not know that but they were larger, round and straining against her dress as she panted, begging to be freed, begging to be kissed.

Sansa gulped and her eyes darkened, she raised a hand to slap Jon again but he snatched it in mid-air and forced her back against the wall as every feral urge inside of him bubbled to the surface. He wanted tear every scrap of clothing from her and bite, kiss and mark every inch of her skin _his_ as he took her against the wall.

" _Jon…"_ she sighed in a deliciously breathy voice.

Jon growled and pressed against her harder, knowing that she could feel his achingly hard cock up against her. The hand that he was not gripping, slid up his torso making every hair stand on end on its journey until it was cupping his chin. Then she rubbed her thumb over and across his lips and Jon's mouth fell open, swallowing and sucking on the digit.

Sansa's eyes were almost black now and she let go a little moan that shuddered right down to his groin.

"I thought you were dead" she whispered "I would never have...I thought you were dead."

Jon let go of her thumb and he rested his head against the wall, breathing her in. She smelled like fresh wild flowers, he could see the barest sliver of her bare shoulder from where her dress parted from her neck. It was scarcely an inch away, he could kiss it so easily.

"What are you doing?" Sansa asked

"Waiting" Jon replied, his voice sounded hoarse even to his own ears.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Somebody to come in" Somebody to storm in to tell him to get off his sister before he ruined her.

A beat passed and Jon felt his body move involuntarily closer, wanting to become one with the girl before him.

"It’s the middle of the day, everybody's working" Sansa said quietly "No one will enter."

"Where's Hardyng?" Jon asked.

"In the Riverlands, under ten feet of snow. He died on the journey" Sansa answered and her voice cracked.

She tried to hide it but there was a slight quiver in her voice and that alone was enough to give Jon the energy he needed to drag himself away from her. He was disgusting, his half-sister mourned another man, carried his child inside of her and still Jon wanted her.

That night Jon took himself in hand and thought of what it would be like if he had not walked away. If he'd crossed those last few inches and plundered Sansa's pretty mouth with his tongue and fucked her like they were animals. He'd been so close, he'd almost ruined her.

Often Jon told himself that he ever gave into that forbidden sin, he would make if wonderful for Sansa, he dreamed of kissing and caressing her skin with loving touches, making love to her gently until she screamed with sweet ecstasy.

But just then his wants were darker. He pictured escorting her across the courtyard to Maester Aemon's library, hiking up her skirts and taking her from behind in the snow, in front of women-starved men who followed Sansa's every move with a lecherous gaze. Taking her so fully she would never think of another man again.

Then his eyes would drift down to the slight swell in her stomach and he would feel the sick familiarity of jealously. He was not a fool, he knew that Sansa wanted him but that didn't change the fact that she was carrying another man's child. Dead or not Sansa and Harry would always be connected through a living babe.

In Winterfell Sansa had expressed doubts about becoming a mother, but he had no doubt that in truth she would cherish and adore her child more than any woman could. What was it Sansa had said - that Harry had given her comfort when she needed it most and now he'd given her a source of love for the rest of her life. How could Jon compete with that? How could he could he compete with a ghost who would remain forever the gallant knight, who had died saving Sansa from her tormentors?

He had never before thought about the fact he could never give Sansa a child and now that he did, the realisation depressed him. He would never press his ear to her swollen belly and feel his son kick or bounce a little girl with curly red hair on his knee and revel as she called him 'Papa'.

It dejected him to realise that he now understood how Catelyn Stark had felt when her husband brought another woman's bastard home with him. He didn't want to understand Catelyn Stark, he didn't want to be like her, cold and unforgiving...but could he love a little boy who was the image of his father? Jon didn't even know what Hardyng looked like and he didn't want to find out. He knew he was incapable of resenting Sansa forever, eventually he would forgive her but the jealously...the jealously would stay and how was he supposed to stop himself from transferring it to Hardyng's son?

The choice was made for him several strained and largely silent days later when, for a change, Sansa came to visit him in his rooms.

"I think...I think it would be best if I went to Skagos." She said softly.

"Aye" Jon didn't look up from sharpening sword - his dull Castle Black forged sword which was as cheap and inelegant as one owned by any a hedge knight.

"Arya shouldn't be alone...and Mallister keeps dropping hints...and..." Sansa's voice became horribly watery and he could hear the tears "Aren’t you ever going to forgive me."

"You're not the one that needs forgiveness." Jon answered gruffly.

"Jon...you won't even look at me anymore." Sansa whined.

"I can't look at you because if I look at you, I'll want to do something…" Jon said "So you're right, you should go."

She sobbed and Jon was torn between wanting to comfort her and wanting to tell her to run so that he didn't comfort her...so he didn't claim her.

Jon indulged himself in looking his full the following day as they packed bags onto horses for Sansa and Satin, who would escort her. It was early morning and the sun had not yet appeared on the horizon. The sky was a royal blue that shone on the icy façade of the Wall and reflected back down on the largely empty courtyard casting Jon's half-sister in a soft ethereal light. She looked like the maiden reborn, wrapped up in white fox furs with delicate snowflakes in her hair that fell down her back like a stream of molten copper.

"Write when you get there" Jon requested quietly.

Sansa nodded and clasped his hand in her own, gripping it so tightly he could not wrench it free "I'll miss you." She whispered.

"Gods, Sansa…." The words hung between them waiting to be completed. Jon tried to think of something sweet or touching or even practical to tell her but the only thought on his mind was that she should not be going, that he should beg her to stay.

Snow crunched behind them and they were soon joined by Lord Commander Mallister. He took her hand and kissed it.

"It has been an honour for us to host you my lady" Mallister said. As he spoke Blueberry swooped down from her perch on the stable roof to sit on Jon's shoulder, the falcon nipped his ear affectionately and Jon stroked her feathery neck with the pads of his fingers.

"I will be forever grateful for your assistance in my time of need." Sansa replied.

"I only wish I could do more for you my lady but I dare say you will be happier in White Harbor than stuck here with criminals and peasants" Mallister remarked. They had made up some story of merchant friends of Sansa willing to harbour her in the city, the fictional family would travel north and meet her and Satin halfway.

"Thank you Lord Commander but I have known some of the best men in the realm at Castle Black." Sansa said looking meaningfully at Jon.

Jon's eyes bored into her. In only a few minutes she would be gone.

_Stay. Stay here with me._

Mallister sniffed as if he doubted that were the case but did not dispute the matter.

A horn blew announcing the return of a ranger. Jon helped Sansa to her destrier as Satin fastened the remaining saddle bags. The gates to Castle Black opened, it was Black Jack Bulwer, he trotted in on a burly chestnut mount escorting a prisoner who walked alongside him with a rope around his neck like a leash.

It took Jon a few seconds to recognise the prisoner. Varamyr Sixskins had always been a small man but without his animals he looked positively tiny and frightening vulnerable. There were scars across his face and he was limping.

Jon's heart pounded loudly in his chest.

"Warn the others" Jon hissed in Satin's ear pushing him back in the direction of the barracks.

"What is this cruelty?" Mallister demanded "What has this man done to deserve such a humiliation?"

"This one's a wildling" Black Jack said jumping down from his horse, Jon could hear Sansa's quickened breathing behind him "I caught him poaching in the Gift, recognised him from the war" He turned to Jon, there were daggers in his eyes, Jon gripped the pommel of his sword "He has some _very_ interesting stories to tell."

Bulwer's eyes flicked down to where Jon's sword was half pulled from it's scabbard and made to draw his own sword but Jon was too quick. Before Bulwer could raise his weapon Jon had already shoved Mallister aside, causing him to crash arse backwards into the snow and plunged his sword into Bulwer's chest.

Sansa gasped.

Varamyr tried to run but he was weak and could barely manage two steps before Jon jerkily yanked his blade from Bulwer's body and speared it through the back of warg's head killing him instantly.

Jon then became aware that Mallister was shouting " _Murder! Murder!_ " at the top of his voice whilst the doors banged open around them and men's feet could be heard running over the walkways.

"RIDE!" Jon shouted, leaping onto Satin's horse, his sword still dripping with blood. Sansa obeyed and together they kicked their horses and sprinted out the gates of Castle Black.

On the south side of the Wall lay open heath that stretched for five miles before it hit the tree line and the woods of the Gift. Jon's first thought was to head towards the woods so they might lose any chasers in the tangled maze of gnarled trunks and raised crooked roots, but as the snow started to fall thicker he changed his mind and led Sansa and their steeds to race east across the open moorland. He hoped the falling snow would hide their tracks far better out there than under a thick forest canopy.

The snowfall came at a cost for soon it was so thick they could see nothing but a thick swirling mass of white whirling around them and Jon had no idea if their pursuers were ten miles behind them or ten feet. He was only barely confident they were going east, he could not make out the Wall and the sun's rays were so weak that they were a poor guide.

At some point they reached a hill and the horses had to slow down to heave themselves through the tundra to climb it, grunting and puffing with every labouring step against the incline and driving snow. Jon looked to his right and saw that under Sansa's hood she had wrapped a fur scarf around her face and neck and so the only skin visible was that around her eyes which were eyes were closed tight shut to protect them from snowflakes that shot at them like arrows. Jon felt faintly proud of her, she had survived the journey north, she would survive this.

The horses laboured for what felt like half the day to reach the top of the hill and by the time they had done so the snowfall had lessened and Jon was able to take a clearer view of where they were. He recognised that they were atop Ferret Hill, they had drifted further from the Wall than he liked but to his satisfaction there were no specs of black on the horizon behind them. Their pursuers had either given up or more likely believed them to have fled south.

They let the horses rest for a few moments and ate a little food themselves from the packed saddle bags. Jon thought back to Castle Black and prayed that his friends were well, that they did not fall under suspicion because of his actions.

Black Jack Bulwer had been his friend once too.

It was too cloudy that day to travel by moonlight so as the skies began to darken Jon led Sansa closer to the Wall and the nearby Sable Hall.

Sable Hall was one of the many abandoned fortresses of the Night's Watch. Towards the end of the War beyond the Wall when Jon still hoped a truce might be negotiated between the Northmen and the wildlings he'd thought they could use the freefolk to restore these castles to their full strength.

Now, however fort was just as he remembered - an empty ruin. The inner walls were crumbling and the outer western wall had collapsed completely. Patches of the roof had blown off in storms long since past as the whole place gave off prickling ghostly where footsteps echoed and gales sounded like ghouls.

The last man to live there had been Ser Raymund Mallery almost three hundred years ago. The Lord Commander had charged him with restoring the castle as Night's Watch fortress but he'd rebelled and intended to make the castle his seat. Lord Walton Stark had hunted Mallery north of the Wall where he had eventually been murdered by wildlings.

Together Jon and Sansa built a fire in the least drafty room of the keep, bringing in the horses to kip with them so they might too be warm. As Jon ate his oatcakes he stared into the flames. He was the rebel now but there were no Lord Starks left to chase him.

Sansa took his hand and held it as she looked at him with soft questioning eyes. It was a warm, comforting sensation and he longed to rest his head on her shoulder or breast and let her sooth away his cares.

"Black Jack was your friend" She said quietly, with sympathy. It was the first time she had spoken since they had fled.

"Not a friend" Jon denied, not sure why, maybe he wanted to hide some of the pain he felt - if she knew she would comfort him more and he would let her "But a good man. The third good man I've killed - no that's a lie, I probably killed dozens of good men and women during the war."

"Who were the other two?" Sansa asked.

"The first was Qhorin Halfhand, he was the first man I killed ever. He ordered me to kill him at the start of the war so the wildlings would believe I had truly gone to their side" Jon confessed, he felt little guilt about the Halfhand anymore, the same could not be said for the second good man that he'd killed "The second was Ronnel Turrock, he was a steward who heard rumours whilst trading in the Gift and then spied on Sam and I conspiring three years ago. We weren’t as careful as we should have been. The honourable fool confronted me instead of going straight to Mallister, he asked for an explanation on top of the Wall so none could hear...I think he meant to let me escape but I...I threw him over the edge..."

His voice became hoarse at the end of the story and then he choked as tears fell down his cheeks. Sansa wrapped her arms around him and pressed a kiss to his throat. Jon clung to her. He had never told another person about Turrock, even Sam believe that the old steward had slipped on a patch of ice and fallen to his death by accident.

"You had no choice" Sansa whispered "You had to protect your friends, the wildlings...Arya. The Night's Watch must not know of Skagos, you've worked so hard... You're a good man...the best man."

"Just not quite as good as Hardyng." Jon slipped out before he could stop himself.

Sansa jerked back from him, pain etched visibly on her face.

"I'm sorry" Jon rushed to say "I didn't mean that."

"Yes you did" Sansa answered "But it's not fair. You must know that I...I thought you were dead...I never would have...if you...if I even suspected you were alive."

Jon nodded. She had told him that before.

"Even Harry knew...he said I said your name in my sleep" She confessed and Jon's heart beat loudly "He was a good man, but he died knowing I loved you better."

Jon moved forward, wanting nothing more in that moment than to kiss her but she placed a small hand against his chest stopping him "We can't…" she whispered "Arya...We'll be seeing her soon and we have to do what's best for Arya."

Jon nodded seeing the sense in what she said but he couldn't help but stare at her

with darkening eyes and wish that things were different. Sansa blushed under his heady gaze and tucked her flyway hair behind her ears "Besides you're vulnerable right now."  
"No I'm not" Jon objected, quickly wiping away the remnants of tears he had shed earlier.

"Yes you are. I felt the same after Tyrion was taken from me." Sansa explained "My marriage was hard and certainly not something I dreamed of as a girl but it was a big part of my life for years, it served as my purpose, helped me grow and at many times offered me safety from the harshness of the outside world."

Jon gripped her hand harder. He'd been trying not to think about it, that he was no longer a man of the Night's Watch. He felt young and hopeless all of a sudden, untethered like a kite being tossed about hopelessly in a gusty wind.

"I thought that I would die wearing black" he murmured.

"You still could." Sansa suggested "It's a good colour on you."

Jon chuckled, his face splitting into a grin it had not expected "Tell me something pleasant, I don't want to think about this anymore. Tell me a story."

And so Sansa retold the story of Florian the Fool and his Jonquil. Jon had heard it a thousand times as a child but he wasn't listening for the story, it was the soft sweet tones of Sansa as she spoke and then sang that soothed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Runs to hide after the pregnancy revelation). I know that some of you really didn't want Sansa to be pregnant with Harry's baby but I hope you can forgive me and will carry on reading after I set out some of my thinking below.
> 
> First of all, the idea of Jon being put into a somewhat similar position as Catelyn Stark was too interesting to me to pass up. 
> 
> Secondly, ASOIAF revels in the conflict and messiness of human relationships and while I've read (and really loved) many great fics that have the main pairing conceive a baby from a one night stand, I wanted to try something a bit different. In the real world, a couple who get pregnant from a one night stand are very unlikely to be soulmates and much more likely to have just been attracted to each other for a moment in time. 
> 
> Finally, I didn't want Sansa's story to be wholly wrapped up in Jon, or vice versa. From canon we know that Jon was been in love with Ygritte and that that relationship was important to him and basically helped shifted his whole world view on the wildlings and the Nights Watch and so I wanted to give Sansa a significant relationship of her own. My Sansa may not have loved Harry when he died but she did care very much for him and was loved by him, and as with Ygritte and Jon, I'm having him leave what will turn out to be a significantly positive impact on her life.
> 
> (P.S. there's one last reason why I wanted Harry to be the father of Sansa's child which will be revealed towards the end of the story)
> 
> Next, Skagos...


	24. On the island of Skagos

**Jon**

It took two weeks to reach the North's eastern coast. The Bay of Seals was wrapped in a thick wintry mist that hovered above its iron grey seas. Jon knew where the wildlings hid their boats and from cave hidden in the cliffs he and Sansa pulled out one of the long narrow boats, wide enough for only one person to sit abreast. The boats were those of the Frozen Shore men and were strong enough against the choppy waters of the Bay, they only had one oar which had a paddle at either end that Jon would use to push the waters back on each side of the boat alternately.

Since he had last visited the Bay of Seals the temperature had dropped and crusts of ice were beginning to form, in some places they were silk thin, transparent and would break at the touch but in others they were two hands thick, bone white and stretched for several yards. The sight made Jon deeply uneasy.

As their boat cut silently through the waters, the high mountains of Skagos emerged from the mist with their sharp peaks and sheer rock faces. Jon remembered Old Nan telling them as children that the Skagosi were descended from giants who ate human flesh whilst their lords drank blood from the skulls of their enemies. The Skagosi lords were largely no more, Mance had seen to that, but the island still had an unholy feel about it.

They washed up on a rocky beach that was littered with patches of ice and snow. Jon could feel that they were being watched and as he helped Sansa out of the boat and Blueberry swooped down to perch on her mistress's shoulder as though in an act of protection.

Figures slowly emerged from the dark shadows of the forest.

"You are brave for coming here crow" Their leader announced, pointing a spear in the direction of Jon's heart.

Jon felt Sansa shiver as he shielded her behind him. She had never seen people like this before, covered from head to toe in white furs with necklaces made of shadowcat teeth and hoods still carrying muzzles, eyes and ears of the snow bears they had been made from.

"They found me out" Jon replied "I'm a crow no longer."

Val's mouth twitched into a smirk "You stopped being a crow a long time ago, you've got too much of the North in you." Then she eyed Sansa "This one doesn't. She's pretty though, it seems you have a liking for redheads."

Jon could almost feel Sansa's glare "This is my half sister, Lady Sansa" He introduced "It's thanks to her you have that nice black glass blade at the end of your spear."

"Fine bird" Val said, nodding to Blueberry, before she readdressed Jon. "Come, Mance will want to see you."

"Who is she?" Sansa hissed as they followed Val and her companions up the beach and into the forest.

"That's just Val, don't worry she's harmless" Jon told her "She was Dallan's aunt."

They walked for about two hours until they reached one of the wildling camps. As they walked Val told them that they had fourteen camps in total dotted about the island, some in mountain gorges, others merging with Skagosi settlements. The one she led them to was in a valley in the foothills of the Skagosi mountains, it was well sheltered from the wind and a crystal clear mountain stream ran through it providing fresh water.

"It freezes every night and some bugger has to wake up and cock's crow to break the ice." Val explained.

The wildling camp was just as Jon had remembered with children running through domed tents made out of wale bones and elk skins as their mothers and fathers sat around camp fires sewing clothes and plucking wild fowl. There was an atmosphere of homeliness that despite all it's favours did not live at Castle Black.

"Oh my" Sansa gasped, clutching his arm tighter when a giant rose up from between the tents and crossed their path carrying a newly hollowed out narrow boat over one shoulder.

"Don't stare, they're shy" Jon said, repeating what Ygritte had once told him.

When they had arrived at the camp's edge Val had said to one of her men "Go tell Arry that her brother and sister are here."

Shortly afterwards they heard the sound of a wolf barking and Jon's heart swelled as he recognised Nymeria racing towards him accompanied by a small dark girl dressed in a jacket and breeches made of the spotted grey wildcat fur.

Arya jumped up hugging Jon round the neck, she had grown some but she was still his little sister. He hugged her tightly and ruffled her dark hair "I missed you too little sister" he whispered.

Once they separated he only had a second to take in her red cheeks and hale and hearty complexion before Arya and Sansa flew at each other.

"I was so worried" Sansa wept stroking her sister's hair desperately.

"Me too, I thought for certain that you'd want to kill me out of shame once you saw me dressed like this" Arya joked gesturing to the breeches, the bow and quiver full of arrows on her back and dagger strapped to her waist.

Jon laughed and Sansa slapped her on the shoulder "Don't be silly Arya."

"Come on, I have to show you the best bit" Arya enthused tugging at both their hands.

"Jon has to see Mance, little she-wolf" Val said.

"Can't it wait a few minutes, please" Arya begged "They have to see, they won't forgive you otherwise."

Val groaned "Fine, but then Mance."

Intrigued, Jon and Sansa followed as Arya tugged them through the tents at half a run "Look who arrived a few weeks ago."

Sansa cried and Jon choked back a sob. A hard faced woman with shaggy brown hair was sitting in the door of one of the tents whittling arrowheads out of a block of dragonglass. By her side a small boy, with black hair and dark grey eyes was resting against the belly of a sleeping white direwolf bashing of the small lumps of the black rock together.

"Bout time you showed up" Osha smiled and nodded towards the boy "This one's getting a handful."

"Oh Hosten" wept Sansa, moving tentatively towards him.

The small child's lip wobbled as he took her in "Mama?" his eyes flicked to Jon "Papa?"

**Sansa**

Hosten seemed to have almost doubled in height in the year and a half since Sansa had last seen him. He was no more an adorable, chubby bundle of flesh but a proper little boy with long arms and longer legs who ran about and according to Arya and Osha chattered endlessly in proper sentences. He did not speak much in front of Jon or Sansa though, at least not at first, he seemed shy and stuck close to Osha and Ghost.

He barely remembered anything of his family or of Winterfell, though Arya insisted she told him stories every night and Sansa wondered whether it was these stories or long forgotten memories that made him think that she and Jon were his parents. He became shyer after they explained to him they weren’t and ran to hide in the tent. He did not emerge till later that night when the Hound returned from hunting, greeting Jon and Sansa's arrival with a grunt and one of his white stoats. Sansa took it gratefully knowing that to the Hound, a dead stoat was more valuable a greeting than some long drawn out hug.

He brought with him two persons that Sansa had never met before, who were introduced as Jojen and Meera Reed, the children of Lord Howland Reed of Greywater Watch. They were peculiar creatures, Lady Meera seemed more akin to a spearwife than a highborn lady and Jojen had unusually deep green eyes that he fixed upon Jon making Sansa's half-brother shift uncomfortably where he sat. Sansa soon warmed to them, once Osha explained that it was the Reeds who had helped her, Dallan, Hosten and Hodor escape Winterfell after the castle was seized by Theon Greyjoy.

"It took us a long time to get here" Osha said "They were combing the country for us and we couldn't travel quick with two babes. Then Hodor got too sick to travel and we were hold up in a some shack in the Northern Mountains for moons waiting for him to get better."

Hodor's absence around the fire, revealed his fate and Sansa felt a surprising pang on learning of his death.

Their tent was surprisingly warm, built of furs, skin and animal bone with an inner and outer wall to create a blanket of air insulation. The fire burned in the middle and there was a hole in the roof that allowed the smoke to escape in a column rather than choke the inhabitants within. Late in the evening, once they had shared tales of their day and eaten their fill they doused the fire and covered up the chimney, the Reeds retreated to their own tent and there were three little pockets of bedding for the rest to share, one for Osha and Hosten, one for Jon and Sandor and the third for Arya and Sansa.

Sansa felt somewhat bereft, for the past two weeks she had slept cuddled up next to Jon. It had been strained, awkward and almost awful to be so close, to feel him pressed against her through the furs and be unable to do anything about it but this...this distance between them...it was harder.

"Where do you think Theon is?" Arya asked once the others had gone to bed.

Sansa shrugged "The Iron Islands probably" Or dead, but for some reason she didn't like to think of Theon dead. They had already lost so much and she know longer hated him as ardently now that she knew he hadn't killed Hosten and Dallan after all.

"Once the War for the Dawn is won, I'm going to find him and kill him" Arya promised in a whisper "Val and the Hound have taught me how to hunt. I'm going to hunt all those who hurt our family."

It struck Sansa suddenly that Arya seemed both very young and very old "Don't focus on their pain at the sake of your own happiness. It's not what mother or father would have wanted."

"They say you killed Joffrey" Arya said

"I didn't. I saw him die but I didn't kill him" She was the bait

"I wish I'd been there to see it" Arya said wistfully. "That would have made me happy."

"It didn't make me happy, it was a horrible sight" Sansa said "I'm glad the Hound stayed with you."

"He wouldn't leave. Val came to meet us in White Harbour instead of Mance Rayder and he didn't trust her so he said he'd come with us to Skagos to check Rayder really was there and that she wasn't going to kill me." Arya explained "He's alright I suppose... don't tell him I said that."

Sansa chuckled under her breath "I'm sure he's fond of you too, why else would he have stayed."

Arya shrugged "He wants to fuck Osha, you know" she whispered as quietly as she could.

Sansa's eyes widened and then she had an urge to giggle which she tried to repress "Arya" she chided "You shouldn't gossip."

Arya grinned back "I bet he's furious you and Jon are here, it'll make it harder for them to sneak into each other's bedding."

* * *

Life on Skagos was both somehow very mundane and very unnerving. Sansa had slept out in the wild before, but the journeys north to Castle Black and east to Skagos had been journeys - she had never _lived_ outside a castle before. For the first time she didn't have people to do things for her, there was no Pyp to wash her clothes, no Brienne to bring her food, no Kitty to brush her hair. She had to do everything herself.

Sansa did her best not to let it bother but it was a change and it was not helped by the fact she could feel Arya, Osha and Sandor watch her every time she had to peel vegetables or take clothes down to the stream to wash as though just waiting for tears or a tantrum. Jon wasn't much helpful either, he kept being extra nice to her every time he caught her doing chores as though he felt guilty she had been driven to this state. It made her want to scream at him that she wasn't a child, yes she cried the first time she washed Sandor's tunic as it took hours to get the stains out and yes she dreamed of warm castles and feather beds but she was also an eighteen year old woman who understood that that wasn't an option at this point in time.

Fortunately for that reason (an unfortunately because she missed him) Sansa's days saw little of Jon. He spent his daylight hours fishing and hunting with Arya, Sandor and the Reeds or planning with Mance and the other wildling leaders whilst Sansa stayed with Osha to cook, clean and watch over Hosten and Dallan.

She tried to use the time to bond with Hosten, to make him love her as a sister and someone who would take care of him. But Hosten was so young and so confused about who she was no matter how many times they explained it to him. At some times he chattered away to her like a little sparrow, sometimes he would let her tell him a story and would cuddle up to her but at others he would cry when Osha told him she was going to leave him alone with Sansa.

Over time she learnt more about her little brother, he loved to run about with Dallan and the other children but Dallan was his favourite, like a brother to him, and they would chase each other from one end of the camp to the other (Osha told her not to worry for there were always eyes on the young ones) or collect pinecombs and see who could throw them the farthest. He hated mountain berries and they had to mash them up and put them in his fish so that he would eat some, he adored fish and herring was his favourite. Hosten told Sansa he wanted to be a fisherman when he grew up and often begged Meera to take him out in her kayak when the others went fishing. They could usually put him off by pointing out that Ghost wouldn't be able to come.

"Sometimes I dream that I'm Ghost" Hosten confessed to her , following her about in the woods one day and helping her forage.

Sansa smiled "Sometimes I dream I'm Blueberry. Jon says it's a gift, you are very lucky."

He became bolder in following Jon and Sansa about and although there were still occasions when he cried if Osha left to forage or hunt they started to lessen. Those episodes hurt and it troubled Sansa, not least because she wondered what it would be like when she had her own babe.

The child inside her had quickened now and she could feel it move about during the day as she worked and at night when she slept. Part of her was terrified, Sansa had always imagined that when she became a mother it would be in a castle with a maester to deliver the babe, a wetnurse to feed it and a septa to raise it. She had always dreamed that her mother would be there to answer her questions and hold her hand through it all and the longing for her mother increased to an almost burning level.

Yet at other times she became excited, she was growing an actual living human inside of her. She felt less alone, there was a little creature that was always with her and with each new kick and each new craving she felt like she was getting to know them better and better. She dreamed of a little boy with red hair that Jon could teach to hunt and she could name Eddard or Robb or Bran.

Sansa struggled to share any of these feelings or worries with those around her, she didn't know the Reeds, Sandor found the fact that she carried a bastard funny while Arya thought it was weird (her little sister didn't seem to believe that Sansa hadn't been raped and often eyed the bump with pity and suspicion) whilst Jon was still horribly awkward about the whole thing and seemed to prefer to pretend that she wasn't pregnant at all. Sansa didn't know how he would react when the baby actually arrived and he would be expected to hold it.

She wasn't going to be her father. She had decided that if Jon wanted to be part of her life then he would have to be part of her child's.

The person she wanted to talk most to was Osha, her friend who had been pregnant and probably knew what it meant to carry low or high, which sensations were normal, which were worrisome, how many hours were too many that the baby did not kick and whether childbirth was as horrific as they said. Sansa had been present at a couple of childbirths before, Lady Dorna Lannister's had been bloody and frightening but had ended with a glowing mother and gurgling, healthy babe and then Aunt Lysa - that had been smoother, there was less blood and fewer screams but at the end there had been a still babe and a mother half mad with grief.

Sansa didn't think she would ever forget the image of that cold blue babe and it was why she didn't bother Osha about her pregnancy, although the image scared her more than anything ever had.

Instead she found solace in Samwell Tarly's mistress, a wildling woman named Gilly who lived two tents over and had two children of her own. She was quite shy at first and Sansa had to draw her out but she seemed to know a lot about babes and childbirth and was happy to answer Sansa's many questions. There were also other women who offered their advice, often unsolicited. Sansa wasn't used to smallfolk talking to her as an equal before and she soon realised that being pregnant seemed to give strangers the right to touch her growing belly and declare whether it was a boy or a girl as well as give opinions on what food she should be eating to make it strong and when it was safe to start fucking again.

And though this advice (especially the last part) made Sansa feel uncomfortable, it granted her an opportunity she had not had at Casterly Rock or Castle Back - to get to know those who surrounded her. Sansa was well practiced in the arts of gossip and Skagos was not so different to the court, they talked of who was sharing each others furs, who was an arrogant pig and who was a downright bore. Who put on airs that they had not earned, who was two faced, who doubted Mance's leadership, who was thinking of abandoning Skagos and trying to make their way across the Narrow Sea and who resented the presence of a former crow within their ranks.

Sansa let Mance deal with the men and women who distrusted Jon, as long as they didn't harm him she didn't care if some of them returned with black eyes or others disappeared all together. In the meantime she ingratiated herself with the elders who washed at the stream, the women who foraged, the men from other clans who came to trade and she traded in gossip and rumours. She told horrors of the flaying Boltons who ruled the North and the slavers who ruled Essos. She whispered that Mance Rayder had been the only man Lord Stark had ever been afraid of, that during the War Beyond the Wall he had once killed fifty southroners singlehanded. She murmured that Jon had been born in the Frostfangs to a wildling mother, that he could speak to wolves and had betrayed the Night's Watch at every turn.

One day she asked Osha to do something she had been putting off for far too long - to cut her hair.

"Finally" Osha groaned, pulling out her knife and standing on her knees behind where Sansa sat "How short do you want it?"

"To my shoulders I suppose, that's how everyone else seems to wear it" Sansa said reluctantly. She adored her hair, she was proud of it's colour, it's strength and how smooth it was...or used to be. After several moons of travelling, living in the sparseness of Castle Black and the wildling camp it had become tangled and ratty. At Castle Black she had the time to clean and maintain her long locks properly but on Skagos she was too busy.

It was the practical decision but that didn't mean Sansa liked it any more.

Osha unbraided her plait, combed the strands until they were smooth and then Sansa winced at the sound of the first slice.

"Sandor likes you" She said, trying to distract herself "He watches you a lot."

"Aye, I know" She seemed better pleased by it than Sansa was when she had first met the Hound and he had watched _her_ for a little while.

"You like him" Sansa raised an eyebrow, surprised by the admission.

"What's not to like, big strong man like that? He's practically a wildling himself" Osha said "I bet he's got a cock that would make a woman scream."

Sansa elbowed her for her coarseness. Osha laughed "You don't want to do that when I've got my knife on your pretty hair milady" she mocked "He can't be much taken with me though, he's done nowt about it."

"I thought spearwives didn't wait to be wooed, I thought they took the men they liked themselves" Sansa mocked.

"I've too much pride to put myself out there only to be laughed at in return. He'll have declare himself if he wants to have me."

"Then you'll be waiting until long after this winter is over" Sansa said "Don't play games with Sandor, Osha. He won't like it and it won't work, he likes honesty most of all."

"I wouldn't call it a game, he knows I want him in my furs. I've hinted at it enough"

"He probably thinks you're teasing him, or worse making fun. Did you know that Sandor gave himself the nickname of 'the Hound'? He thinks of himself as a dog. I've never met a man who thinks less of himself. You can't play coy with him, tell him straight what you want, be as blunt as you can for he won't believe you at first."

Osha sniffed in acknowledgement.

Sansa had told Jon that she loved him better than Harry, he had tried to kiss her but said nothing in return. Sansa knew this was for the best but it still hurt.

They spent little time together, Jon was always busy, hunting, fishing, training fighters and helping Mance, even in the evenings when they would sit by the fire they were never alone. Arya monopolised Jon's conversation and although Sansa liked their friends, sometimes she wanted to tell them all to get lost so she could be alone with Jon.

But she couldn't. Because he was her brother, a fact thrown into blazing sunlight by the presence of Arya and Hosten who saw both of them as siblings.

But Sansa didn't want to be Jon's sibling and she didn't like how he was suddenly surrounded by women who didn't look like fat pigs. Val, in particular, grated on her nerves, the spearwife was stunningly beautiful and Jon clearly respected her, Sansa wondered if she reminded him of his dead wildling lover.

She did not like the way Val flirted with Jon or the way Jon, although not encouraging her, did nothing to stop her.

The whole thing was unbearable, to be so close to Jon, to sleep in the same tent as him night after night and not be able to do anything. Many times, when they were among company, she could feel his eyes resting upon her and she wondered that the others didn't notice. She wanted to shout at him 'stop looking at me' but she liked his gaze, it was soft and heavy and made her skin prickle in a pleasant way.

Later that day, before the sun had set and the sky was streaked scarlet and orange Jon and Arya returned to their tent with a couple of dead fish for supper, accompanied by Val herself.

_They'd spent all day together and returned with only two fish?_

"You've cut your hair" Jon immediately said with wide taken aback eyes.

"Yes" Sansa asked coolly "Is there something wrong with that?"

"No...no...it look's nice" Jon protested weakly as Arya sniggered beside him.

"You look like a proper woman of the freefolk now my lady" Val declared.

"Excuse me" Sansa said and she retreated inside of the tent. It was an absolute tip, Hosten and Dallan had been playing sea monsters in there earlier and all the furs had been tossed about with wild abandon so that she couldn't find the cooking pot.

"Are you alright?" came a soft voice, Jon had followed her inside.

"I'd be better if Hosten would learn to clean up after himself" Sansa said angrily throwing skins and furs to the side. "You have to be stricter with him."

"You're crying" Jon pointed out quietly and she became aware that there were indeed tears in her eyes.

"Well maybe that's because I'm hungry" Sansa whirled around to hiss "This stupid baby wants to do nothing more than eat and you've only brought home two fish. What in the names of the gods were you doing all day?"

"Arya's got a bag full of mussels and mountain berries as well."

"Well hooray for Arya" Sansa cried her voice breaking.

Jon approached her gently as if she were some wild horse he had to tame "What's wrong?" he asked rubbing her shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Sansa cried, bursting into angry sobs "What's wrong is that I'm hungry all the time and I live in a messy tent that stinks of feet. What's wrong is that this baby makes me angry and sad and so many other things, I'm so confused. What's wrong is that I look like a fat hag and today I had to cut off half my hair because it was _practical_."

Jon laughed and Sansa glared "You do realise that you're still the most beautiful woman on this island? In truth I don't think you've ever looked more beautiful."

Sansa scoffed "You have to say that."

"Actually I shouldn't say that" Jon muttered under his breath "But you do. You should see the ways the other men look at you, some of the women too, the worry that they might try and steal you keeps me up at night."

Sansa chuckled in a way that was half disbelieving, half embarrassed.

"I meant it when I said I liked your hair" Jon said in a low whisper and he bent to kiss the side of her neck, causing a shiver to run through Sansa "You look like a spearwife - wild." Another kiss, another shiver "I like it when you look like a perfect highborn lady and I like it when you look like a wild woman of the North."

He pressed two more kisses against the hollow of her throat, lingering a little more each time. Sansa's breath quickened and she carded her fingers through Jon's curls holding him closer to her, letting out a soft moan. Jon's tongue darted out and he gently pulled aside her woollen dress to lick her collarbone.

Outside one of the direwolves barked loudly and Sansa pushed Jon away, the pair of them were red and panting. Oh how could they have forgotten themselves like that?

Sansa struggled to control her breathing.

"I'm sorry about the food" Jon breathed, very deliberately not looking at her "Mance had me reinforcing defences. I'll get more I promise."

The truth, as Sansa soon found out, was that food was beginning to run out on Skagos, the seas were traditionally plentiful but there were three or four thousand wildlings on the island (not to mention the Skagosi) and in winter when there was little on the trees, they were overfishing.

Jon said there were stores of food - stolen or bought with the left proceeds from the sale of Longclaw - but that Mance didn’t want to resort to these until there was no other alternative.

In the end it was Karsi, chieftess of the Frozen Shore Men who hit upon a solution. She had heard Sansa was a warg whose familiar was a bird and so she set Sansa up every day high in the mountains to scour the thousands of islets, skerries and cays scattered around Skagos and the Bay of Seals for seals, puffins, walruses. When she found food of any kind Sansa flew Blueberry back to Skagos to lead boats of freefolk out to get it.

The first few days, Sansa and Blueberry found nothing but after a week they stumbled upon a colony of sea lions in icy seas far to the east. The entire island feasted well into the night on the first fat carcasses were dragged ashore.

In their valley camp, Mance Rayder had a large fire built in the centre to spit roast the sea lions and there was much merriment. Sansa didn't know where the ale came from but she supposed men and women could always be trusted to find alcohol somewhere, somehow. Mance played a jaunty tune on his lute and scores danced round the fire. Sansa jealously watched Arya twirl around gaily with some boy from the Hornfoots whilst Hosten and Dallen jumped up and down on the spot with other little ones trying to copy the adults. Sansa rubbed her bump and thought of her baby who was sleeping. He would join them soon, a new wolf pup to join their pack.

After he finished playing Mance sat down next to Sansa and a group of men with flutes took up the task of making music.

"So what's the talk tonight?" She hadn't seen Mance for a few weeks now, he often moved around the different camps on the island, staying in each one for a few nights.

"Happiness" Sansa said "The meat seems to have punctured all boils of resentment."

"Aye - there's nothing like a full belly to warm a man's heart" Mance nodded "I want you to go up the Thenns tomorrow. They're upset about something but they're too bloody proud to tell me what."

"So they're men?"

Mance chuckled "Ask for a woodswitch, pretend there is something wrong with the baby then do your gossiping, snooping thing." He glanced down at her bump "You're almost ready to pop. Where's the father anyway?"

Sansa tried not to be taken aback, bluntness was after all the way of the wildlings "He died in the south" Then because she could rarely talk of it due to Jon's presence "He died defending me, he never knew that I was carrying his child."

"Did you love him?"

"Not as well as I should have" Sansa admitted "But I was fond of him. He was a good man, a brave one in the end."

"There's no greater gift for a child than two good, brave parents" Mance affirmed, nudging her shoulder with his "It will be easier when the babe comes, you'll see his father in him and it will ease the pain of loosing him." His eyes drifted to Dallan who was trying in vain to climb onto Nymeria.

Behind this valliant attempt, Sansa saw that Osha was sitting on Sandor's lap kissing him deeply. Then Sansa felt familiar eyes upon her, Jon was watching her across the fire with a hardened gaze. When he realised she had noticed, he looked away and went back to talking to Val.

Sansa tried to stamp down the familiar spike of jealousy.

"Have you heard anything from Tyrion?" she asked "Jon said he went to find Daenerys Targaryen."

Mance shook his head "I tell myself it's a long way to Meereen and ravens die in winter, especially here but...it's been a long time since they left." Sansa's heart sank "The Lannisters fought against the Targaryens in the end, what's to say this queen hasn't punished the son for his father's deeds?"

"Nothing" Sansa replied listlessly "So, no dragons?"

"Not unless Snow can conjure them out of the seas" Mance grunted, taking a long swig of ale "Pity they didn't add a couple of dragon eggs to his funeral pyre, they say that's how the Dragon Queen got her beasts."

"Why would Jon be able to..."

Mance frowned, giving her a funny look and then went back to drinking his mead.

Sansa sat stunned at the apparent implication.

"But...but...he's not" Sansa stuttered "He's the son of my father and an innkeep's daughter"

"If you say so" Mance shrugged again.

Her mind began to spin "What are you saying...that's impossible...Jon is my father's son, he's the image of a Stark and anyway there weren't any Targaryen women that could be…"

But there was a Targaryen man and a Stark woman.

Sansa felt as though the ground was crumbling beneath her and she clung to the log for support "Does Jon know?"

Mance sighed "This isn't my business…"

"Does Jon know? Does he know?" she repeated her demand in a fierce voice.

"Nobody really knows but aye he's heard the rumours - not that he'll admit to it" Mance admitted "Satin, Karsi and her clan heard them down south when they were mining the dragonglass. They say it's why King Robert turned on old Ned."

Sansa choked, she felt herself breathe more quickly and her head felt faint "Are you well my lady?" Mance asked kindly, rubbing her back.

"Excuse me" Sansa said hoarsely and she got up and walked away.

She stumbled her way through the tents, wanting to get as far from the feasting and merriment as she could. Away from the centre of camp, the air around her was dark under a pale half moon. She reached the edge of the camp where the forest started and clasped hold of the prickly branches of a spruce tree to try and anchor herself.

There was a crunch in the snow nearby and Sansa saw, even through the darkness that Jon had followed her "You shouldn't be out this far, this time of night. There are wolves in these woods."

Sansa gave a hollow laugh "I thought we were supposed to be the wolves."

"Sansa...what did Mance say to you?"

"Have you fucked Val yet?" she asked harshly, enjoying the shock on his face "She clearly wants you to and she's obviously your type."

Jon's expression darkened "You know exactly who my type is" he answered in a low voice "It's you who's the mystery, first Hardyng now you're sharing secrets with Mance. Tell me what he said to you."

"If I'm such trouble then I wonder why you bother, go back to your spearwife and enjoy her flirtation, get under her skirts if you can."

"Damn it Sansa! I don't want Val, you know that. Val doesn't want me, she acts like that with all men, I'll tell her to stop seeing as it bothers you." Jon huffed "Now will you tell me what drove you away from the feast?"

"No, I don't think I shall dear _brother_." Sansa said, appreciating how Jon winced "Don't you like it when I say that - _brother?"_ she taunted "It's what you are though, isn't it - _brother_? _Brother_ and _sister_."

Jon emitted short puffs of air from his nostrils "He told you" he deduced.

"He thought I already knew and why wouldn't he" Sansa explained coldly "All this time, ever since Satin returned you've known…"

"I don't know, nobody does."

"But you suspected…and you didn't think to tell me?" Sansa cried.

"It's not like you haven't kept secrets from me!" Jon declared making a sweeping gesture at Sansa's bump.

"I delayed telling you, I couldn't have kept the babe a secret from you forever" Sansa said and her voice fell to a saddened whisper "Were you ever going to tell me?"

"Of course...of course I was" Jon urged "I just had to get my head round it first" He ran his hand through his hair and paced around looking both lost and wild "All my life the only thing I could take pride in was being the son of a good man…"

"The _only_ thing?"

"Aye the only thing. We didn't have the same childhoods Sansa. I was a bastard, suspected from the cradle. I was baseborn, destined to grow up deceitful and lustful which I guess turned out true because I betrayed father and Robb and now lust after my sister" He laughed darkly "The only thing, the only thing that ever gave me comfort, that ever gave me certainty was the fact that I was Ned Stark's son and now Satin and Aemon are saying all these things and I keep having these dreams…"

"What dreams?"

Jon swallowed guiltily "I dream I'm a dragon." He admitted

"Ugh" Sansa cried hitting his chest as often and as hard as she could before he could pry her hands away.

"You know for a highborn lady, you are _very_ violent" Jon quipped, looking down at her fondly.

Sansa wrenched her wrists away from his grasp "No, you don't get to flirt, not after this" she declared "You've known about this for months and you've kept it hidden from me. Didn't you for one moment think about what it might mean for me? For us?"

"Of course I've bloody thought about it! It's all I can do not to think about it!" Jon hissed "But I can barely keep my hands of you as it is. How am I supposed to restrain myself if we start believing it's true, that I'm your cousin and we can be together? And then what if it's a just a rumour and it turns out I really am the son of Ned Stark rather than Rhaegar Targaryen?"

He stopped, closed his eyes and took several deep breaths "Seven hells, I've already dishonoured you enough. Lord Stark would hang me if knew the things I think about you, what I've done to you, I can't do it anymore, I _won't_."

"Well…" Sansa started icily "That should be fairly easy because I don't want you to do anything either, in fact I don't even want to look at you right now. You can sleep in with the Reeds tonight."

However, later that night, once the partying was done and they returned to their tents, Jojen and Meera found their tent was occupied by Osha and Sandor very loudly _not_ sleeping. Sansa offered the Reed siblings bedding in their tent but returned Jon's plaintive look with a glare.

"No, I don't care, you are not sleeping here." She ordered him "Go to Mance or Val or Gilly for all I care."

"Why did you kick out Jon?" Arya asked angrily as they prepared to go to sleep.

"I don't want to talk about it. Ask Jon, he can tell you."

As usual it was dark when she woke the next morning and so Sansa lit a torch from one of the still burning camp fires to light the trail on the way to the Thenn encampment. The Thenn were camped on one of the false summits of Walrus Mountain and the trail winded up through the forests of the foothills. The babe in her belly made Sansa a slower and slower walker but she liked being alone and the peaceful tranquillity of the forest soothed her. The woods here were different to those in the north, on Skagos all of the trees were conical with large sloping branches that drooped downwards and they somehow seemed quieter and calmer than the Wolfswood.

The sky began to lighten to a dull grey and Sansa wandered up the slopes to where there was a gap in the trees and she could see the sun peaking out on the horizon, kissing the surface of the Shivering Sea in the East.

A cough sounded behind her and she was unsurprised to see Jon.

She sighed "How did you find me?".

Jon raised an eyebrow and then looked down at the trail of footprints she had left in the snow "You shouldn't be travelling alone, not in your condition."

Sansa tried to stamp down her irritation "Wildlings walk up and down this trail all day, if anything happens, I'll soon have aid."

"Here, I got you these" and from his back he brought out a bouquet of wild blue roses.

Sansa batted them to the ground "Do you really think _flowers_ will make me forgive you?"

"No, but it's a start" Jon said "Flowers every morning, backrubs in the afternoon, I'll cook in the evenings and I'll even convince Arya to wear a dress."

Sansa tried not to smile, it wasn't that much, he already did a lot of the evening cooking anyway "I'd rather you brought me a dragon. That, we could actually use, where is it anyway?"

Jon looked apologetic "Somewhere across there I think" He nodded to the Shivering Sea "It's chained up somewhere underground, he hates being chained up, but he must be in Essos or some other land because the men who feed him have accents I've never heard before."

"Do you think he's one of Daenerys Targaryen's dragons?" Then before he could answer "He must be, there are no other dragons. I wonder why she keeps them chained up, I would think they'd help her in her war against the Ghiscari slave masters."

"There's only one other dragon locked up next to mine, maybe she keeps the third above ground" Jon suggested then his eyes fell on hers, he huffed "I didn’t come here to talk about Daenerys Targaryen. I wanted to apologise, I should have never kept this a secret from you and I...I could have handled last night better."

Sansa flushed when she remembered what she'd said _"Didn't you for one moment think about what it might mean for me? For us?"_

She felt like a fool.

She wanted to tell him that they had to be honest with one another, that there should be no secrets between them but she held back aware that it was something a wife might say. She wasn't his wife, she wasn't even his lover, she was his little sister and big brothers kept secrets from their little sisters all the time.

But she didn't want to be his little sister anymore.

"You can't lie to me anymore Jon" Sansa said "And I can't lie to you. We have too many enemies as it is, we can't keep secrets from one another."

"I don't want to keep secrets from you" Jon said lowly.

"Then don't" Sansa replied softly, then she gestured to the path "I should go. You need to get back to the camp, you have training."

Jon nodded, though he didn't move. His eyes seemed to bore into her pleadingly as though he were half a step from falling to his knees "Can I sleep in the tent tonight...please?"

"No…" Sansa breathed "I don't think...I don't think that would be the best idea."

Jon's eyes slowly darkened and Sansa had the sudden urge to run away. He was right, it _was_ harder now she knew. How was she supposed to sleep in the same tent as him, all the while knowing that he might be her cousin, that in another lifetime they might have been betrothed and wed under the heart tree at Winterfell?

"It's my fault you know" Sansa confessed quietly "It's my fault that it...that all between us is so twisted and unnatural."

"It doesn't feel unnatural to me" Jon said hoarsely. "Sometimes it feels more natural than breathing."

"If I had been a better sister...If I hadn't kept you at a distance when we were children then maybe this _thing_ wouldn't have grown up between us" And she felt the familiar prickle of tears.

"Is that what you think?" Jon frowned, coming closer so he could gently wipe the corner of her eyes with the pads of his thumbs "I've always thought you were lovely, not always in the same way I think of you now of course, but you've always been radiant to me, a beautiful sunlit creature that was kind enough to grace my dim world with her loveliness."

Sansa half giggled, half sobbed.

"Theon was also distant and I didn't fall in love with _him_."

She was sure her heart had stopped beating "You...you're in love with me?" she stuttered.

Jon frowned, confused "Didn't you know that?"

"Well I thought...you never said" Sansa whined. And then because she couldn't hold back any longer, she lurched forwards and kissed him.

It wasn't like the frantic press of lips at Winterfell, just before she thought he would die by the hand of Gregor Clegane. It was longer, less hurried, their lips moved softly and slowly against one another until Sansa opened her mouth and Jon groaned, pulling her closer to him as she deepened the kiss. She clung to the front of his jerkin as his warm tongue entered her mouth and tangled with her own, swallowing her moan as her body shuddered with desire.

Sansa didn't know how long they stood there, pressed against one another, their tongues slowly, deeply, searching each other's mouths. All she knew was for that time she existed in a haze of pleasure.

A haze which was broken by a sharp gasp.

Sansa and Jon jumped apart, breathing heavily.

Arya was watching them, eyes round with horror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments so far, please let me know what you think of this chapter.


End file.
